hii i love your fics! may i request miguel being jealous because reader gives meows morales too much attention? (cmon man the lil guy is so cute)
the right to be jealous — MIGUEL O'HARA
☆ miguel loathes the fact that he's jealous of a cat, therefore he tries to do something about it.
fluff. jealous miguel. this ask is literally so cute... i wish whoever sent me this a very good day because wow it's so?!!!?! anyway, hi! i'm alive, school has been kicking me in the ass so this is a bit overdue, enjoy anyway ^_^
Your relationship with Miguel started off strong, everything went perfectly. Date nights, missions, and all. He felt so elated, that for once, something in his life went in the right direction, and he didn't feel like it was an error or glitch in the matrix.
He thought that you were absolutely flawless too, you had good looks, a personality that aligns with his so well, not to mention that you were endlessly patient with him. It was a quality that he'd forever be grateful, this relationship was something that he'd forever be grateful for.
... So why was he getting jealous over a cat?
"Look at you, aren't you the cutest, most handsome thing ever?" you cooed at the feline, grazing your fingers over the cat's belly, and it purrs in your grasp which causes you to squeal. "I can't believe that grumpy over there hasn't told me about you!"
I had a good reason, he wanted to say, but whatever. It was fine, everything was fine, and he could handle it. However, the scowl that permanently rested on his features deepened, you pick up on it and chuckle. "What's the matter?"
"Nothing," he grumbles, turning so that his back faces you. It's not that he had an issue with the cat, it's just that all of those kisses, those compliments, and more could be going to him instead. Did he feel selfish for it? Absolutely. Would he stop feeling this way? Absolutely not.
"Miguel..." Oh no. He knew what that tone meant, bringing the palm of his hand to his face, he groans lowly before you're slinging Meows over his shoulder. "Come on, what did Meows Morales do to you, huh?"
He doesn't respond, doesn't even bother to look at you. His fingers pad along his screens and bringing files that haven't been opened up in years, he just wants to look like he's doing something but in truth, he's trying to escape your ruthless teasing.
"You're very cute when you pout, you know?" It sends a shudder up his spine, normally Miguel was very resistant with praise and let's not forget the tiny animal that's rubbing up his cheek and purring.
But when it came to you, the way that the words rolled off of your tongue, the way you looked at him, he could feel it to his very core and his heart was just so full. You could kill him with praise alone and he would die a happy man.
"And your hair," He's about to question the loss of Meows on his shoulder until you suddenly tangle your fingers at the top of his head and fix any fallen strands, pushing back his hair a little. "I think it suits you very well, you always look handsome. Even when you don't try."
Miguel's heart isn't beating as loud as a drum anymore, at this point it's the whole band. Melodious tunes that sing from the deep parts of his soul and they sing for you, his breath hitches when you slide your hand down to cup his cheek and make him properly face you.
"Hey," is all you say, yet it drives him mad.
He grabs your wrist, pushing your body up against his desk as he pins you down. Your faces are merely inches away from each other, but he leans in even closer, and you can feel his breath against your ear. "You have no idea what you do to me."
He pulls back from the crevice of your neck but still keeps that closeness, his eyes dart to your lips then back up to, and he's just about to absolutely devour you until you push your palms flat up against his chest and he stops.
"Wait," You exhale with shaky breaths, "The cat's still here."
From the corner of his eyes, he catches sight of Meows on his desk in some sort of tucked in position. He sighs before scooping him up in his arms, muttering some Spanish phrases under his breath but you can't even tell if they're meant in offense or not.
He carefully tosses him off of the platform with a huff, standing back up to full height and finally being able to direct his full attention to you. "Now,"
SUMMARY: miguel breaks up with you out of concern for your safety, he tries to reassure himself that he did the right thing but he can't help how he yearns for your presence, your warmth, you every single day. how does he deal with it? do you two get back together?
THIS FIC CONTAINS: angst. hurt/comfort. fluff. somewhat suggestive content. pathetic miguel (for my enjoyment and yours). spider-person reader. slightly possessive miguel.
NOTES: i have nothing to say. i was possessed while i wrote this. STREAM PROMISE BY LAUFEY IT POWERED ME THROUGH THIS POST FR!!! also this is kinda long lol
× there is one leading factor as to why i think miguel would break up with you. being that he's so scared of getting comfortable, he doesn't want to overwhelm you, and get overly-attached.
× he's grateful for you, he always will be but how long would that last before you'd be snatched from his careful grasp? even if your fates aligned, he was scared of even being open. that the moment he let you know of his deepest insecurities, you'd go running.
× keeping a distance was just a habit that was hard to let go off, he did show he loved you but not in the ways that you needed or craved. pure physical affection wasn't enough, the tiniest gestures weren't enough, it wasn't enough. he knew that.
× which lead to the demise of your relationship, it was so utterly painful to watch his words sink in and the tears starting to breach from your waterline. he couldn't bring himself to hug you because how could he be so kind after doing something like that?
× he couldn't be vulnerable, he had to be strong. keeping his emotions in check even as you said that you understood and if this is what made him happy then you'd go through with it, that you respected his wishes like the kind soul that you were and soon left. leaving him with an air of regret and yearning.
× work isn't easier for him either, and that's normally the first thing on his list of suppressing his emotions. how hard he tried to conceal his shame whenever you two just happened to pass by each other in the halls of the headquarters.
× you could see it too, let it not be said that you were oblivious. you had picked up on when miguel was trying to tamp down his feelings during the time of your previous relationship, and it was clear he was still trying to do it now.
× if you were being completely honest with yourself, you tried doing the same since miguel was so insistent on shutting himself out, you might as well give it a shot. right? well, not really. each and every time you thought about him and no matter how hard you tried, it would spill out through sobs and long rants to your friends (to their misfortune).
× you've learned to be more non-chalant about the break up, acknowledging that you couldn't really do anything about it. however, it didn't stop your heart from beating at a hundred miles an hour whenever you were within an arm's length from miguel. being alone with him certainly didn't make it better.
His voice rung in your head like a chant. Meet me in my office later, meet me in my office later, meet me in my office later. It's like he was haunting you, the sound of your own footsteps not even making it to your ears as you trudged closer and closer to his chambers.
Were you scared? Yes. Absolutely fucking terrified. However, it's not because you feared he was going to scold or yell at you, but because you've haven't been alone with him for a while.
Yes, one-on-one office meetings did happen from time to time but it's been days since your last one with him, and you certainly weren't expecting it to come so soon.
It felt darker than usual when you walked in, the platform that he normally stands on now lowered to it's fullest. You were well familiarized with his lab and it's layout, a lot has changed.
The brewing stations that he was so stern about cleaning now scattered, some stray vials even shattered on the floor. There were papers everywhere, unreadable from the dimness of the room but even from your viewpoint you could see how illegible his handwriting was when he was scribbling down on them.
Before you could observe his workspace any further, he steps down from his platform. Your eyes immediately flickering up, it unsettled you so much. Everything about this was unsettling. His eyes, you knew how to study his expression, a talent you gained from being the only person that Miguel really tolerated, but now? He was completely unreadable, like you didn't recognize him anymore.
Your gaze trails down to his chest, where it rosed and fell a lot faster than it usually did. He seemed erratic almost, you remembered when he'd come home to you in that kind of state and most of the time it would normally end in the bedroom.
Since you don't want to be caught staring at his pecs, you clear your throat and fight to make eye contact with him. "Sorry, what did you need me here for?"
Miguel looks as if he's lost in a trance for a moment, boring his eyes into yours until he snaps out of it and turns his head away - breaking the very uncomfortable exchange of eye contact.
"You got hurt during your last operation." His voice sounded hoarse, more so than usual at least. You really wondered what the hell Miguel was doing before you got in here, you were aware that he took some sort of drug to stabilize his DNA, maybe he hasn't taken his shots yet? You're too scared to ask.
"A lot of people got hurt," You begun to explain, crossing your arms and digging your fingers into your arms as to prevent yourself from stuttering. "I got a gash on my arm, but I went to the infirmary and got it fixed up so it's fine. I'm fine."
There goes that silence. That grating unbearable silence that forces you to hear every pin drop, every whir of a machine, and every distant laugh of yet another obnoxious Spider-person. Everything went quiet which made every other noise so fucking deafening, it irked you.
You wanted him to say something, to do something, to even just breathe a little louder because you knew the moment that he'd make even just a single nose that he'd get your attention right away.
Seems like you prayed a little too hard. He puts a hand on your shoulder and it sends shocks straight to your palpitating heart, he leans in close. Not close enough to have alarms blaring in your head, but he was very close.
"But you got hurt too. That's—" Suddenly, his head drops down and he stares at the floor for a few moments. You get a good view of his messy, dark brown curls before he looks back up again, before letting go of your shoulder. "Nevermind. Get out."
There goes the moment, as per usual. You huff a sigh of relief? Disappointment? You weren't quite sure, processing the emotions you just felt was a job for later, you had more pressing matters to attend to right now.
"Right, I'm sorry." You had no idea what you were apologizing for either, but it felt like you should be sorry.
× little did you know that that wouldn't be the last time you'd say sorry to miguel. you didn't consider yourself to be the most apologetic person, but with most things, miguel seemed to have unlocked that part of you as well.
× sometimes it would be over the smallest, most obscure encounters. like brushing fingers whenever you two reach for the same item in the cafeteria, whenever he drops a pen and you both try to pick it up at the same time.
× it's not like it got any better than that. whenever miguel wanted to meet up with you, this time not about you getting injured during operations (although if you did, it would consume most of the conversation) but even about the most mundane things, the meeting would end with an overwhelming silence that you'd have to break with the same pathetic "i'm sorry".
× miguel didn't know either, he thought he did but lyla has reassured him that it's just the overthinking talking and that he was worrying over it too much. even then, he still felt like it was his fault that you constantly had to apologize to him for reasons unknown. it was so pitiful, he couldn't stand seeing you like that. he'd rather die.
× this bad habit of yours didn't help either of you. every time you apologized to him, every time you looked at him, every time you spoke to him, every time you breathed in his direction, that pit of want in his stomach only continued to grow and that impulsive thought at the back of his head that tells him to just relent and beg for you back continued to grow louder and louder.
× no matter where he went, he'd be reminded of you. you were like a sticker he couldn't peel off, a tattoo that would never fade. he'd find bits and pieces of you in his home, around the city. whether it would be him scrolling past the channels late at night and coming across your favorite show, standing in front of the television in a daze as the memories come back to him before turning it off.
× or your smell would count as well. when he'd be going patrolling through the citys in the day and come across a perfume shop, it's like he has to physically restrain himself from barging inside geared in his suit just because he could smell your scent from the inside. he simply couldn't take it anymore, it's like his senses were going haywire.
× he needed you. he was going to fix this.
Miguel had never looked in the mirror more times in his life than now.
"Come on, Miguel. I'm sure you look fine! See? Look at that cute face," Lyla cooed in mock affection as Miguel scowled at her through the reflection of the mirror. "Not so cute anymore."
He ignored her comments, running his hand through his thick hair in a poor attempt in trying to getit to fall down in a more 'attractive' way (according to Lyla's fashion articles) but it just didn't seem to work. That's the downside of having consistently styled hair, Miguel huffs and rubs the bridge of his nose.
"Do I have everything?" He looks back up as Lyla flickers over to his kitchen counter, scanning the items on it through her careful gaze and heart-shaped sunglasses. Once she's done, she gives him a small thumbs-up. "Donuts and flowers are still here like they were fifteen minutes ago, Miguel."
He hated the fact that he kept checking his presents were going to disappear if he looked away for too long or stopped paying attention, he wasn't going to let his gifts for you slip out of his fingers this time. Not on his watch. Not toda—
"These flowers will wilt if you don't hurry up."
"Fine, fine. Stop rushing me."
With a few clicks of his watch, that same blinding portal opened up in front of him as he hesitantly walked into it. He clutched the flowers and donuts in an iron grip, trying to make sure no flowers flew out of the bouquet and all twelve donuts were still contained in the box.
He stood in the dimly lit hallway of your apartment, doors lining up on each side. The nerves were starting to creep up on him, very clear from the way that the paper that wrapped the bouquet so nicely was now crumpled. He sighed, dejected.
"You're going to do fine, Miguel." Lyla interjected.
"You don't know that," He begins taking very, very small strides towards your apartment door which made Lyla's virtual eyeballs roll to the back of her head. "We both won't know for sure unless you try, besides I sense that I'll be going offline soon."
"You don't have intuition. You're an artificial intelligence."
"You're going to kiss your soon-to-be in five minutes lover with that mouth?" Miguel followed the routine of angrily swatting Lyla away even as he's about to show up to your door, about to pour his whole heart out to you, though it's inevitable. She'll find a way to be witty about something, he'll get mad and tell her to leave, before coming back to grovel. There's a bit of pattern in that, no?
All the anxiety that Miguel has been trying to push down to the dark crevices of his heart were all coming back to him as he raised a shaking finger to ring your doorbell, countless scenarios rushing through his head. What if this was the wrong door? What if you were sleeping and he rudely interrupted you? What if you weren't home? What if you were dead? Oh, he hated that thought.
The door to your apartment swung open to his surprise, and the fingers he had clasped around the flowers soon unclenched when he caught the sight of you.
You were wearing just a shirt, a really big shirt. Which only really meant that it belonged to him, he recalled letting you borrow his clothes if he ever accidentally tore through them in the 'heat' of the moment. Where you'd promise that you'd return it in a week or so, but it never made it's way back to him, and he has grown more than content with that prospect.
He could catch a whiff of your apartment. It reeked of instant ramen packets, and it seemed like you opened more than one. He could catch a peek at the rest of your space as well, it was dimly lit and the TV is paused. The bowl of ramen sat comfortably on the coffee table in front of the couch, there were also a lot of crumpled up tissues littered across the surface which made him assume you were literally just crying.
His suspicions were confirmed when he finally looked at your face. Eyes a little red, slighly puffy, and droplets of water hanging from your chin like you'd just washed your face. Your normally well-kept hair was a mess, and every detail of you in the moment made Miguel's heart drum loudly in his chest.
"Miguel," At last, you spoke. Voice raspier than he remembered it. "You— why are you here? If this is about work then my watch is in my bedroom, I'm sorry if I didn't answer your calls."
Yes, of course because him standing in your doorway with a wonderful bouquet of flowers and your favorite donuts definitely meant that he was here to talk about business. He shook his head, "No, I'm not here for work. Not at all."
He bestowed the gifts to you, and no matter how confused you are right now, you still gladly took them in your hands. The way that you looked up at him was an apology within itself, but you couldn't even manage to whisper the words out because what were you going to apologize for when he brought you all of this?
Oh, god. He was really going to do this, wasn't he?
"Mi sol," He got down on his knees. He got down on his knees, you wanted to gasp but it's like Miguel sucked the words straight out of your body. "I'm so sorry. I really am."
The hundreds of apologies that you dished out over the span of a few weeks could even compare how to raw Miguel's voice sounded right now. It felt so real, so true, and he's barely even said anything yet. You felt terrible that all you could really do in the moment was stare, eyes widened and expression dumbfounded.
"I broke your heart, I hurt you. You poured your heart out to me, talked about your feelings, put your trust in me, and I broke it. You don't have to believe me when I say this, I wouldn't blame you if you didn't, but I was scared, fucking terrified at the thought of you leaving. You were just so perfect, so amazing on the inside and out, and I didn't want to lose that, lose you."
Miguel had no idea what was even coming out of his mouth right now, no rhyme or reason behind his words, but he didn't care. He wanted to turn off his mind for the moment, letting his heart speak for itself like he should have done eons ago.
"But," Shakily, he reached his hand out for yours. You quickly shifted the box of confectionaries to your other hand, letting him hold onto you like you were his lifeline. Like you are his lifeline. "Those are just my reasons, take them as you will. Please trust me when I say that I want to be a better lover, a better person for you. It's all you deserved, and it's all I want to give to you."
He peppers a few small kisses to your knuckles before continuing to speak, "Lo siento, cariño. I know that this is all might sound so— so idiotic, I'm not good with words. I took you for granted and discarded you, and for my ignorance, you can be mad at me for the rest of my life, but I wouldn't be able to live with myself knowing you didn't receive any closure. Even if you don't forgive me, I just wanted to let you know that I truly am sorry. All the logic, all the facts, I'll put them aside for you. You are all that matters to me now."
The whole world went silent as Miguel squeezed his eyes shut, not even his super-human senses could pick up any background noise. You hadn't pulled your hand back yet so he continued to brush his thumb over your knuckes and veins, but he couldn't tell if it's because you were shocked or you were stunned from utter joy.
He feels his heart drop when he hears you whimper.
His eyes fly open, and he looks back up at you. Shit, you were crying again. You were crying again, and it was his fault. Although who was to say that you weren't already crying before he got here?
The hand he wrapped around yours tightened gently in a soothing gesture, but it only seemed to make you sob harder which increased his guilt. Was his apology that bad?
"You are such a liar," Shit. Maybe he should have dignified that suggestion from Lyla telling him to write this down first. "You can't just— just say all of that shit and then tell me you're bad with words."
Wait, what? Clear confusion was well written on his face from the way that his brows knitted together.
Your hand broke free from his grasp to move up his arm, his shoulder, before smoothing over his hair, tucking back the stray strands that have fallen on his face so that you can lean forward, and kiss his forehead. Even if the kiss was so small, it felt so heavenly.
Your kisses moved down to the bridge of his nose, then finally landing on his lips, the lips that you've only dreamt of kissing and now the past month of desire felt like it was slowly being satiated. Your eyes flutter close as you can feel Miguel stand up, his strong arms move to wrap around your waist, nearly lifting you off of the floor as the kiss deepens.
His hands wandered the expanse of your back, like he was trying to revise every inch of you, but you didn't blame him. Both of you needed this so much and so badly too. Every rub and soft groan spoke a hundred utterances of I miss you, I miss you, I miss you.
He barely pulls back once the kiss ends, faces barely inches away from each other. You find yourself entranced in the delightful shade of red that his eyes are, you'd catch yourself bashfully staring at them before, but now? You were more than shameless about it.
"Let me inside," whispered Miguel, voice low and husky, only laced with want and need. You knew exactly what he needed. "Want to make it all up to you, please."
You couldn't do anything about it as you obliged, grabbing Miguel by the collar of his jacket, and tugging him inside your apartment. Not even a few steps in, he grabs the flowers and donuts from your grasp, sets them down on the coffee table, before pushing your body against the couch. You yelped a little, but he silenced it by capturing your lips in yet another searing kiss that you couldn't help but lean into.
All the physical affection that Miguel had given you last time didn't disappoint at all, but this just felt entirely different. His actions were saying just as much as his words, leaning his frame into yours and hungrily pressing you into the cushions.
You thought that he'd at least give you a second to breathe but he stole that from you once more as his lips travelled down, kissing along the outline of your jaw then moving down to your neck. His favorite spot, he remembered every single mark and bruise that he left on you, and he was going to make anew.
The familiar feeling of sharpness as his fangs nibbled at the flesh, you didn't even have to look down to see the marks forming and blooming in a lovely shade of red as he continued to bite.
It's not like you were any better than him though. Needy and pathetic whines that slipped out of your mouth, just a continuous string of please Miguel, need you, missed you so much, I want you so bad. It all only continued to spur him on, he murmured sweet nothings both in Spanish and English against your neck as his advances moved its way down your figure.
His rough, calloused hands had a firm grip on you, daring to slip under the hem of your shirt— no, his shirt. "Can't believe I let go of all of this," He rasped out. "Eres tan bueno conmigo, you're being so good. Letting me get a taste of you," He fed into his impulses, lifting your shirt up to expose most of your torso besides your chest.
Your nails dug into his back, free hand tangling in his locks as he continued to press more wet kisses onto your belly, then to your abdomen. As to tease you, he instead went to your thighs. His claws scraped against the plumpness of it before he took a big bite.
You keened, the hand that you had nuzzled in his hair tightened.
"Miguel, please—"
"I know, I know. Just wait a little longer, hm?"
With every peck, every coo, every single breath that he took, it all spoke the same meaning to you.
OH MY HOD WHAT TTHECYRCJ WHAT TTHE FUCK WHAT TTHE UFCK WHAT THE HELL I JUST WOKE UP ☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️
THIS IS SO CUTE AND SWEET AND OMGGGG I LOVE IT THIS IS THE FIRST TIME ANYONE'S EVER DRAWN SOMETHING FOR ONE OF MY WRITINGS BEFORE??????? THANM YOU SO MUCH LIKE SERIOUSLY I'M HANGING THIS UP ON MY WALL ☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️
Hello sweetie, hoping you're doing well! What about bully punk Miguel and nerd pastel girl reader at college? (Miguel with 23 and reader with 21) Like reader was ugly and will have a glow up thanks to MJ and now Miguel tries to have her attention, they have a date and sweet and fluff smut!! (reader is virgin uwu) I'll let to you the creativity
Impurities
hello sweetheart you absolute DARLING i genuinely could be better but i hope ur doing great. i want to apologize for taking so long but i want u to know when i saw this i just about melted bc punk miguel is one of my guilty pleasures i adore him so much. this ask made me want to evolve it into a series i had like several different ways to make this but ahhhh i hope it's alright
Punk!Miguel x Pastel!Reader, Fluff and Smut, Word Count: 8,875
Art by: beawoodward on artstation !
You knew you weren’t the most appealing girl out there. You weren’t about to delude yourself otherwise. You knew what people said about you, how they looked at you. Your face could’ve been worse. Maybe some bushy eyebrows? You dressed…maybe a little different than most people. While the world was covered in grays and black, you opted out by showering yourself in the cutest pastel colors. You didn’t keep up with the trends and instead followed whatever you thought looked alright. It often led to some mismatching and awkward outfits but you didn’t think so!
You entered campus with a light blue and pink striped pants with a pink belt and a baby blue sweater. Two low braids tied with white ribbons at the end and your white framed glasses on the bridge of your nose. Skincare was confusing to you so all you really did was wash your face with a harsh cleanser and hoped for the best which gave you some acne instead–making you pop them and leave some scars. You tried makeup but it just looked cakey so you settled with a messy and often uneven eyeliner.
Regardless of your outfit, whether in a skirt or in pants, you were always decked out in some bright pastel colors and hair done in the same two braids. You held yourself close while walking around the halls, already used to people staring and calling you names from high school. College was a little more merciful, the whispers being just as loud but at least they’d never bully you to your face. You win some, you lose some.
Your self-esteem had been damaged to the point of no return anyway, so any attempts of trying to prove you’re worth something would just be a pipe dream in your eyes. That’s why you push your glasses up and cling to your shoulder bag tightly in your fist as you pass by the usual group of boys to get to the front seat of your class.
Your human biology class door was opened at the back so you’d have to pass the back seats to sit at the front. As usual, the group of boys were basically monochrome except for the little specks of red or blue if they ever decided to add color. But what was most noticeable about them was the so-called leader of said group.
Unofficial–official– leader Miguel O’Hara, the senior who decided to take general education classes in his last year before graduating. His usual confident and toothy grin was on display, silver spider bites that his, also pierced, tongue would often play with. His big and heavy platform boots would rest on the chair beside him while his left elbow rested on the table, his hand combing through his long brown hair–shaved at the sides, mind you. He made sure to push his fringe back so everyone could see his double eyebrow and nostril piercing.
Miguel’s hands were decorated with rings, big and small and his nails were short and painted black with some of it chipping off. His usual leather jacket with pins and patches, stretched and tight from his muscular build, was accompanied by a low red tank top with a spider symbol on the front. Black skinny jeans and a spiked belt that did little to actually keep his pants in place since the black and red band of his boxers were showing.
He listened mindlessly to his group of friends as they talked with each other, his fingers switching between playing with the dangling earring on his earlobe to his industrial bar. His crimson eyes glanced up when he saw you in your uncomfortably bright and awkward fashion sense. His friend tapped his shoulder and jutted his chin out to you before whispering something in Miguel’s ear that made him shove him away with a smile. Then they both laughed as quietly as possible, chuckling at what you decided to wear today: light blue overall shorts and a pastel yellow undershirt with white knee high stockings and white sneakers, your usual white ribbons at the end of your braids.
You usually sat alone at the front, placing your earbuds in to listen to music while you waited for the professor. Despite being at the front, you could still hear some faint chuckling and words being whispered from Miguel's group.
Still, you held your head up, taking out your notebook and expensive textbook. Clicking your pen, you began some light note taking before class started.
You sighed as you entered back in your dorm, dumping your bag at the door and kicking off your shoes. You faceplated down onto your bed while your roommate MJ looked over at you sympathetically.
You turn your head, cheek squished against the mattress. “I know that beauty is subjective and I'm not supposed to earn validation from anybody else but…” You sit up and rest on your legs, hands wringing in your hands with furrowed eyebrows.
“But…I want to feel pretty.” You admit softly, ashamed since you felt like you were betraying yourself.
MJ's smile grows and she eagerly jumps from her bed to kneel at your bedside. She takes your hands in hers and squeezes them reassuringly.
“You are pretty,” She insists. “But if you really want help, I can.” MJ tilts your head to look at her, a soft smile on her face.
You nod. “I do. I just want to know how to look like you.”
MJ shakes her head. “No. No, you already have your own beauty.” She places a hand on her chest. “I meant that I can help enhance it. No change to your core is necessary.” She pokes at your chest playfully and you both giggle together.
“You sure?”
“Positive.”
You take a moment to look at her. MJ really was perfect–shiny straight red hair, clear skin that was painted with freckles and a winning white smile. You hoped she could work some magic on you.
“Okay.”
Your transformation didn't happen overnight. It took at least a few weeks for it all to come together.
MJ had dragged you to salons to get your hair properly taken care of. Gotten your eyebrows plucked, eyelashes lifted, an effective skincare routine–that you struggled to drill into your regular schedule–and a new wardrobe that still held your pastel look, just a little more flattering. She even helped you get some contact lenses so you wouldn’t need your glasses all the time! To tie it all together, you two spent nights practicing how to do your makeup that wouldn't look so wobbly and uneven.
Each day, you improved yourself. Your tacky overalls changed into fitted jeans or flowy skirts. Your baggy shirts were now cute tops that hugged each curve. Tennis shoes into heels or cute sneakers and your hair came to life with a beautiful shine; your white ribbon still in your hair.
One day, you entered class like normal. Except there were very few whispers this time, almost nonexistent. Still, you don’t let it get to you and continue like normal–walking to the front of the class and sitting in your usual spot. What wasn’t normal was a figure coming up beside you and pulling out the chair next to you.
Miguel slipped beside you in front of the class, tilting his head as he stared at your side profile. You tried not to react but you subconsciously glanced at him from the corner of your eye.
“Hey.” He smirked, his eyebrow raising and his lips curling.
“Hello.” You murmured back, opening your notebook to the next blank page.
“New look?” He asked, using his hand to brush your hair back off your shoulder and you stiffened. He noticed you still had the white ribbon at the back of your head. Miguel’s eyes glanced back down at your body. Nicely fitted flare baby blue jeans, a cute pastel green heart belt with a crop top white sweater.
“Looks good.” He purred. You held your blue bunny pen in your hand tightly, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. You didn’t understand why he was speaking to you. He hadn’t before–other than laugh at you–so what gives?
“Thanks.” You say curtly. Miguel places a hand over her heart in feign hurt.
“Don’t be like that, nena. You look so cute, I didn’t expect you to be so cold.” He teased. He crossed his arms and rested his head on them to look up at you while you wrote the rest of your notes down before class started.
Miguel watched as your false eyelashes fluttered, making your eyes look bigger. The subtle blush on your cheeks and the concealer that hid most of your past acne. He could still see some of the scars which makes him huff a small laugh at how cute it kinda looks. Your lips were more plump than he remembered–a soft pink to them.
He lifts his arm up to rest his cheek on his fist, his eyes still on you.
“How about I take you out?”
Your pen slips and leaves a slash right down your notes. “What?”
“A date. Does that sound good?”
You don’t look up, instead focusing on your task at hand. “No. Can you please just leave me alone?”
Miguel doesn’t say anything else but you hear the chair he sat on scrape across the floor as he gets up abruptly. You hear the laughter of his friends behind you and Miguel snapping at them. Your shoulders hunch over–the natural instinct to hide from embarrassment overcoming you again.
Every week, in the same class, Miguel would try again and again and again to ask you out. Each time, you would decline.
It had gotten bad enough where he changed his seat to move beside you, offering his help when he saw you were confused and overall just trying to get on your good side. You wanted to be strong, truly you did, but it was becoming too much.
When Miguel had asked again, you sighed loudly and faced him.
“If I say yes will you leave me alone?”
Miguel broke into a wide smile.
Once you finally agreed to a date with him, you truly weren’t expecting anything good. So you stood by the place Miguel wanted you to meet him at: a local diner that was pleasantly pretty looking from the outside.
Still, due to your past experiences of being ghosted and stood up, you watched the time on your phone. You decided that you wouldn’t wait more than fifteen minutes max.
To your surprise, you didn’t have to wait at all. You heard Miguel call your name from your left, his lips curled into a confident smile. Subconsciously, you eyed him up and down. He had baggy black cargo pants, accompanied with chains on his right side. A DIY-ed t-shirt that was sprayed painted over many many times. Of course, his iconic leather jacket was littered with various pins and patches. When he was close enough, you saw just a bit of eyeliner surrounding his eyes; and a new septum piercing.
For the people passing by, it was quite a sight to see. Compared to Miguel’s dark but proud aura, you emanated a more sweet and bright vibe. MJ had helped you pick out an outfit, excited that you approached her with the dilemma of going on a date.
You wore a sheer baby blue crop top cardigan with a simple white tank top underneath. A slightly darker blue pleated skirt with white thigh high stockings and ankle strap baby blue platform pumps. You held a small purse in your hands and looked up at him through your lashes. Your hair was pinned in a half up and half down hairstyle; your white ribbon at the back of your head. You thought it was a bit much, but MJ assured you that it was just enough.
“Te ves muy hermosa.” Miguel speaks up, a grin on his lips. “All for me?” He teases with a tilt of his head. A piece of his fringe falling over his forehead.
“Oh, please.” You look off to the side, ignoring the flutter in your chest when called beautiful.
Miguel doesn’t take it to heart, instead going past you to open the door of the diner. He dramatically takes a bow, his arm ushering you inside. The theatrics make the corner of your lips quirk up and you enter inside, nodding to Miguel.
You turn your head around to see the inside, wooden chairs and tables, a jukebox at the back with a shiny bar.
“This way.” You stiffen when you feel Miguel’s breath by your ear. Before you could turn, he places his hand on your lower back and leads you to a booth by the window. He sits across from you, menus at the ready on the table.
“You know, I used to come to this place all the time.” Miguel says, his eyes scanning the different options. “Used to be a hangout spot for me and the others in high school. College took up my time so it’s a pain in the ass not being able to visit more.”
You glance up at him, shuffling in your seat. It felt a little weird to have him speak to you like this, as if he wasn’t teasing you a few months ago.
Luckily, a waitress comes up before you two with a notepad in hand. “Oh! A pretty girl! Didn’t know you were back in the dating scene.” She cackles to herself and pushes her glasses up.
Miguel groans and rolls his eyes. “I thought you didn’t work Fridays, Lyla.”
“Margo couldn’t make it, I needed extra hours–and now a bonus– I get to embarrass you. Everybody wins! Except you maybe. Waddaya want?” Lyla rests on one foot, her grin plastered on her face. Miguel’s smile was long gone, now snapping his order at his friend.
You watched with an amused smile. They bantered like siblings. But what she said piqued your interest. He hadn’t gone around dating?
You were snapped out of your thoughts when you heard Miguel call your name. His eyes were uncharacteristically soft.
“Do you need another minute?” He asks. You stumble over your words and feel your cheeks burn.
“No-no, uhm…” You look down at your menu and pick the first thing you see. “The, uh, chicken fajitas, please?”
Lyla meets you with a smile and collects your menu. “Of course, darling.” She turns to take Miguel’s menu. “Couldn’t you have taken her to a nicer place? She’s all dolled up.” Lyla sticks her tongue out at him and walks away while Miguel’s cheeks burn red. Instead of facing you, he looks down at his hands and he picks at his black nail polish.
For once, Miguel had stayed silent. If you didn’t know any better, you would think he looked a little ashamed? Embarrassed? You could see him moving his spider bites nervously as he stares at anything besides you, his cheeks still tinged red.
You pat your skirt awkwardly and clear your throat. “The…I like the diner. It’s got one of those retro vibes to it. It’s cool.” You give a small encouraging smile. For some strange reason, you thought his quietness didn’t suit him.
Miguel’s eyes dart to yours and then at the window. “You think?” His hand reaches up to play with his dangling earring. It was almost cute. Just a bit.
You chuckle softly. “Yeah, I mean. It’s like being in one of those time machines.”
Miguel smiles. “Time machines? I think a time machine would look cooler than this dump.”
You playfully smack his hand across the table. “Didn’t you say you used to come here years ago? Don’t call it a dump.” You fold your arms on your chest.
You didn’t know this, but Miguel in that moment felt the tension he didn’t realize he had fell off his shoulders.
“Eh, it’s a little bit of a dump.” He leans back and stretches his arm on the backseat. “But it’s like you said: a little retro.”
Lyla returns with two glasses of water. “One for the cutie,” she places one on your side, giving you a wink. “And then Miguel.” She unenthusiastically hands Miguel the cup.
Miguel frowns at Lyla, a familiar bubble of jealousy brewing in his chest. “Lyla.” He warns.
“What?” She stretches out the word. “Just being a good hostess.” She huffs with a pout and walks away.
You giggle to yourself and Miguel notices. He’s quick to speak.
“Ignore her. She’s always trying to be annoying.” He didn’t like the way Lyla was buttering you up, even if it was just a joke. He wanted you to smile at him like that.
“It’s funny. I never thought I’d see you looking so bothered. How do you know her?” You smile and take a sip from your water.
Miguel scratches the back of his head. “Middle school. We were in the robotics club.”
You blink. “Robotics club? Really?”
“Why’re you so surprised? What? A guy like me can’t be into things like that?” He smirks, placing his arms on the table and his pins rattle as he moves.
“Well…kind of?” You smile weakly and laugh when Miguel pretends to be hit. “No, but seriously, robotics isn’t what I expected from you.”
“Well, it was middle school. I’ve grown up into a man. This time I’ve taken an interest in being a geneticist.” He rests his head on his hand. “Don’t judge a book by its cover, nena.” He teases but you pause. That phrase is a little ironic for him to say, you thought to yourself. Shaking off that feeling, you continued to chat with Miguel. Talking about your interests, past, future and current studies. All while Miguel would try to sneak little touches, whether it be his boot tapping your heel or his hand brushing against yours when handing you a bottle of ketchup.
After spending enough time at the diner, the sun was beginning to set. Before you left, Lyla convinced you to convince Miguel to give her a big tip and told you she hopes to see you again in different circumstances.
Miguel holds the door open for you again and the bell dings your departure from the diner. His fingertips gently brush against yours, catching your attention.
“There’s…there’s this other place I wanna show you.” He bites his lip, peeling off the skin. His index finger loosely wraps around your pinky.
“Sure…” You say hesitantly.
He notices your hesitance. “It’s nearby. Just for a little bit and I’ll take you home.”
The wind breezes through, giving you a glimpse of the cool air that will befall once nighttime arrives. You shiver and tuck into yourself to hide from the wind. Miguel takes off his jacket and slips it around you. Feeling the heavy material on your shoulders, you look up at him and feel the warmth go around your torso. Miguel’s eyes are focused on making sure it’s snug as it can be. It’s so large that it ends around your midthigh.
He takes your little purse and pops the collar of his jacket up. “Put your arms through the sleeves so it doesn’t fall.”
You blink and do as he says with a flustered expression. While shuffling your arms through the holes, you try not to glance over at him. His t-shirt was cut at the sleeves that showed off his toned arms. Despite the cold approaching, he seemed to be relaxed as he watched you, making sure you stayed warm.
“Good?” He asked. Your fingers barely poked out, his jacket covering most of your outfit. And it was warm. It smelled like him.
With a satisfied smile, he slyly takes your hand in his and leads you away. You try not to focus too hard on the way his hand engulfs yours.
After following Miguel in twists and turns, you eventually walk up a hill and at the very top stood a single bench with a view of the entirety of Nueva York. Your eyes widened and you let go of his hand to approach near the ledge, placing your hands on the railing.
The lights of the city illuminated the night sky and acted as stars. You saw them twinkle along with hover cars that zoomed past you.
“This is…”
“Where I planned to take you another day. But Lyla pissed me off and I wanted to prove that I could take you somewhere nice.” He comes behind you and slings an arm around your waist.
You look up at him with an amused smile. “Did you really take that to heart?”
Miguel pouts his lips, his eyes looking off to the side. “I couldn’t let her make me look stupid in front of you.”
You laugh, using the sleeves of his jacket to cover your smile. Miguel sees and he has a faint smile of his own on his face. He leads you back to the bench where you two sit in quiet comfortable silence after an afternoon of learning about one another.
As you look over at the city with him, you couldn’t help but notice the nagging feeling in your chest. This was a date. A date that only happened because you changed yourself. A date with the person who laughed at you.
“Hey, Miguel?” You speak up quietly. He hums and looks over at you.
“I…I don’t want you to be nice to me just because I got a little…prettier.” Miguel looks down at you with a frown. He stuffs his hands in his pockets while he looks back at the skyline.
He says your name softly to grab your attention. “I’m not being nice just because you’re pretty.”
You scrunch your eyebrows and scoff. “Yeah, I’m sure all those times you laughed at me was just you being a charmer.”
“Laugh at you?” He raises his eyebrows and you look away. “Nena, I wasn’t laughing at you.”
“Don’t lie to me, Miguel. I’m used to it. No use in sparing my feelings.” You sigh.
“But I wasn’t,” He insists. He wants to reach for your hand, to touch you but he stops himself. “Really, I was…admiring you.”
You roll your eyes. “Now you’re really being a jerk. There was nothing to admire when I looked…stupid and ugly.”
“You did not.” He turned you to face him by turning your chin softly.
“So you’re saying the way I looked before wasn’t stupid?” You glare at him but Miguel can’t find it in him to take it badly.
“You were cute. The way you dressed and looked, it was awkward–sure–but it was adorable.” He chuckles but your frown deepens, feeling the tears bubble up in your eyes as you turn away from him. Miguel calls your name again.
“I’m the last person to judge anyone for how they dress. Look at me.” Miguel flicks his multiple ear piercings, pulls on his snake bites, stretches his tattered and ruined t-shirt and slams his dirty platform boots to the ground. “A freak. You were just a cuter version.”
“Then why did you talk to me now?” You murmur.
“Because you suddenly changed. I wanted to know what was up.”
“And…the sudden date?”
“Your transformation gave me the courage to speak to you. It was my chance–an excuse to talk to you.” Miguel says softly. “Though you did reject me twelve times. I was starting to lose hope.”
“It was not twelve times.”
“It felt like twelve times.”
“...You have to admit that I’m…much more appealing now than I was before.”
Miguel sighs. “Nena, the only thing different about you is clear skin and some clothes. Everything else is still you. You were pretty underneath, you just enhanced it. At your core, you’re still you. Bright and colorful.” He bumps your shoulder.
You smile shyly and look in your lap. “MJ said something similar.”
“MJ?”
“My roommate. She helped me with, y’know, everything.” It was still hard to believe. Over two decades of being told otherwise was not going to go away by a single conversation but it still warmed your heart to hear something positive about you for once.
You don’t say anything else and Miguel takes his chance to wrap his arm around you, bringing you to his chest. With flushed cheeks, you look out into the open where the skyline is feeling at peace and just a little pretty.
You two had arrived at your dorm and you faced Miguel shyly. Your eyes looked at the ground as you felt your cheeks heat up.
“This is my place.” You state and Miguel chuckles, the sound of it sending your heart pumping.
“I see that.” He says, taking a step toward you which makes you take a step back.
“I had fun.” You whisper softly, your eyes landing on his chest. You see Miguel’s hand lift up to your chin and make you look into his eyes. Your cheeks burn since he keeps his hand on your chin to make sure you wouldn’t look away.
“Me too.” He murmured, his red eyes looking like they turned a darker shade when he glanced at your lips. He takes another step towards you and you take another step back. You feel your head hit the door and realize you’re now trapped between it and him.
You hold your breath and can only feel the pounding of your heart in your chest and Miguel’s calloused fingers holding you still. Miguel then uses his other hand to hold your hip, his thumb trying to slide under your tank top. Your hands raise up to hold onto his biceps, shivering when your skin meets his. He was warm.
“I…kind of don’t want this to end.” You admit softly. Miguel’s grin grows wider, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek which makes you weak in the knees.
“Then it doesn’t have to, muñequita.” His hand leaves your chin to cup your cheek. He glances up above your head. “Your roommate home?” He asks. Your eyes never leave his face, your pupils dilating and a weird feeling starting to brew in your stomach.
“No,” You squeak out and he looks back down at you. “She’s–She’s, um, out with her boyfriend.”
Miguel hums, another glance to your lips. “Then…will you invite me inside?” He asks, leaning down so his lips just barely graze yours. Not quite a kiss yet.
Your breath hitches and you nod a few times before speaking. “Mhm, okay.” You reach your hand behind you to grab the doorknob and twist it open. You stumble backwards but Miguel quickly wraps his arm that was on your hip around your waist. He then makes you walk backwards while he could shut the door behind him. You had your arms around his neck and looked up with wide eyes and a fast paced heartbeat.
Miguel huffs out a chuckle. “You okay?”
“Mhm!” You squeak.
He squints down at you in playful suspicion but brushes it off. He bends down to where his lips brush yours again and finally dips low enough to kiss you. Your first shared kiss.
You stumble with how to kiss, especially when the other person has piercings, but with someone like Miguel, you quickly learn and get the hang of it. Soft kissing noises sound between the small space of you two and he gradually moves from your lips to your cheek and down your neck. His arms around your waist tug you closer, bending you back and he moves you further back to where your calves hit the mattress of your bed.
One hand rises up to pull his leather jacket off your shoulder, gently nibbling across your skin before reverting back to your throat. With his lips on your neck, Miguel could feel your pulse going wild, heartbeat going crazy each second. He decides to check in.
“You okay?” he murmurs with a smile, his lips finding yours again for quick kisses.
“Yeah, yeah, I’ve just–” kiss “Just–” kiss “Y’know, never–” kiss, kiss “Done this before.”
He pauses, stiffening before he pulls back. “Wait. Are you saying this would be your first time…having sex?”
Your heart sinks. That was bad wasn’t it?
“No, it’s not bad.” Miguel shakes his head. You didn’t realize you voiced your concerns. “I’m just surprised, is all. Usually people have done it already.”
You look away from him, visibly uncomfortable that he’s lowkey making fun of you. Miguel realizes the damage and quickly tries to fix it.
“But there’s nothing wrong with it, nena! I didn’t mean–” He sighs, scratching the back of his neck. He looks around your dorm room. Your side is filled with cute things like plushies and fluffy blankets–a strawberry duvet all in the same hue of pastels.
“Look. We don’t have to do anything. I don’t…want to make it seem like I’m only here for that.” He shrugs his leather jacket back on your shoulder. “Because I do like you, nena. I’m willing to wait or if you never want it then it’s whatever. I just would really like a second date at least. Maybe at a nicer place like what Lyla said. Maybe I could clean myself up.” He gives you a weary smile.
You stare at his hands that hold onto the zipper part of his leather jacket. For a while, you don’t say anything.
“What if I don’t want to wait.” You mumble. You look up with some determination on your face. “I…I want to. With you.”
Miguel takes his hands off you. “Wh–Are…are you sure?”
You slip his jacket off you and let it fall to the side, stripping off the first piece of clothing from yourself. Your mouth is tight, heart hammering in your chest and cheeks feeling that familiar prick of heat up your neck but you’re sure of yourself. You want this.
Miguel rakes his eyes up and down your body as you stand before him. “Alright.” He breathes out, undeniably attracted to you at this moment. “But this will all be at your pace, okay? I’ll make you feel good.” He purrs resting his hands at your hips and your facade crumbles slowly and you get shy again.
He sits you down on your bed and he kneels before you, his hands on your thighs. He takes your right foot in his hands and carefully unbuckles the ankle strap of your pumps and slides it off. You cover your mouth, heart pounding at the intimate yet innocent act of him taking off your heels. He does the same with your other heel and sets it to the side.
Miguel then looks up at you from his lashes, his confident ones meeting your bashful ones. Taking your right leg again, he slips your thigh high stocking off you and does the same for your other leg. He places his hands on your knees and slowly spreads your legs apart to give you time to stop him. You don’t.
“Come closer, mami.” He murmurs, sliding his hands up to grip the flesh of your thighs. You let out a weak mewl and scoot closer to the edge of your bed.
Miguel bunches your skirt up, groaning and feeling his cock twitch in his pants when his eyes land on your pastel pink panties, a sweet little bow in the middle like you were a present for him.
“Tan bella,” He murmurs, unable to hide the utter desire he has for you. You cover your face in embarrassment as he spreads your legs wider. His lips graze over your thighs, pressing kisses as he makes his way up. You feel your heart skip a beat everytime you feel his warm breath. Your hands clutch your strawberry sheets and he notices.
“You can hold onto me, mami.” He purrs and you swallow the lump in your throat.
“Wha…how do I..?” You feel stupid, your hands raising up and unsure of where exactly to put them. Miguel takes your hands and places him in his hair. His fingers curl around yours so you could grip onto his strands.
Feeling your face burn, the sight of you holding onto him while his eyes bore into yours. You instinctively clench your fists, his hair being tugged on in the process which makes him groan and close in his eyes. He likes a bit of pain, it seems
Miguel's hands return to your thighs, wrapping his arms underneath to tug you closer to his awaiting mouth and to keep your legs apart. “Hips up, mama.” He purrs and you do as he says, making him slip your panties off.
He discards them off to the side and delves between your thighs. His nose nudges your nub and you gasp, pursing your lips and gripping tighter on his hair.
“Miguel!” You whimper and he hums in response. You feel the metal ball of his tongue piercing curl inside you–it was strangely pleasurable. You didn’t expect it to feel so good. You rest on one hand behind you, the other still planted in his hair as you bucked forward on his tongue.
Miguel the munch that he is, grins against your folds and licks a long stripe up before spitting and devouring your sweet nectar again. You felt the sudden slimy wetness hit your nerves and you yelped in surprise. Just as quick, you fall into submission when his skilled tongue swirled in little number eights.
Your eyes were closed shut, your hand pulling Miguel closer to which he obliged. He then surprises you by sticking one of his thick fingers inside you.
“Oh my…god.” You moan, your body growing hot and sweaty underneath all your clothing. “Miguel…”
Miguel’s mouth moves in rhythm, his lips kissing your pussy as he drinks whatever your sweet cunt offers him. He could stay like this forever, cleaning your mess up and licking you for all eternity. His rings nudge your folds, the metal a stark contrast from his rough fingers. He pumps a second finger inside and it’s a bit of a stretch that feels good enough for you to thrust harder.
“Mmm, yes…oh, I’m so close…” You mumble to yourself, chest heaving as you come closer and closer to climax.
Unexpectedly, Miguel pulls away from between your legs. The pleasure being ripped from you and you struggle to lift your head as he pulls off you. The look in his eyes is different. More lustful, more hungry.
“If you’re gonna cum, I want you cumming around my cock.” He groans and wipes his lips with the back of his hand. Miguel stands up and gets into bed with you, shoving his platform shoes and pants off. While he gets on top, you rest back into your bed and your eyes become big and wide–darting between his face and between his legs.
“Is it–will it hurt?” You bring your hands to your chest, clutching the fabric of your tank top. Miguel lifts your chin up to him. His eyes are kind and soft.
“It’s not supposed to. I’ll make sure it won’t.” He grabs the waistband of your skirt and tugs it off your legs, throwing it with the other forgotten clothes. His hands make his way up your body, helping you remove the sheer cardigan and sliding your tank top up and over your head. Miguel chuckles at the heart patterned bra you wore.
He leans over to kiss your neck and you sigh. The feeling of his lips sucking and tongue licking you was surprisingly pleasurable. Instinctively, your reach around his shoulders to hold onto him, your back arching to be chest to chest with him. Miguel’s hands go under your back, holding you up while he quickly unclasps the bra. Feeling the loss of your support, you whine but Miguel kisses you before you become louder. He places you back down on your back and finally removes the last piece of clothing.
Miguel admires you from above, his hands at your waist, rubbing up and down your sides as he feels your curves. “Perfecta. Eres mucha mujer.” He whispers while trailing his lips along your collarbone.
You whimper, feeling your cheeks burn and grow hot to the touch. His breath ghosts over your breasts and he stares up at you maintaining eye contact. Miguel notices something in your hair; your white ribbon, still tied in your messy hair. His heart swells and smiles, reaching up to brush your hair away.
He kisses down the valley of your breasts and around your nipple. He glances up at you every so often to make sure you’re not feeling any sort of discomfort. He can feel your heart pounding underneath his palm. Miguel wraps his lips around your nipple and sucks softly. You gasp and hold your breath for a moment while his cold tongue piercing swirled around your nipple, his spider bites and nose piercing pressed against the softness of your tits. You stare up at the ceiling as the warmth in your body flooded down to your core.
“Oh! M..Miguel…” You whined, your hands curling in his hair where you felt most comfortable. Miguel flicks his finger around your other nipple, pulling and bullying it until it becomes erect and perky. Even then, he twists it and gropes your tit in time with his sucking and biting.
Your hips buck up, feeling your pussy throbbing uncomfortably. When you hit his bulge, Miguel moaned and grinded himself to your soaked pussy in soft circles. Your juices left a stain on his boxers in your desperate attempts at relief. He lets go of your tits–leaving a small bite mark– and continues to kiss down your body.
“Gracias a Dios por mandarme esta belleza.” He murmurs, digging his hands into the plush of your hips when he raises your thighs up.
Suddenly, he stops and lets go of you. “Shit, shit, fuck–hold on.” He mumbles and gets off you. You feel cold and watch as he gets off the bed and picks up his pants from the floor and searches through his pockets.
“Did I…do something?” You ask, worried you might’ve done something that made Miguel regret touching you.
He shakes his head. “No, no–just–ah, there it is…” He chuckles to himself after finding his wallet and pulling out a small square packet. He pushes his fringe back with one hand as he gets back into bed. Miguel shuffles down his boxers after putting the packet between his teeth. “I’ll get you pregnant some other time.”
“What?”
“What?”
You close your mouth and hear ringing in your ears. You were sure that steam would be coming out of your head at this point–your mind felt like mush with how easily flustered he made you. Miguel looks down at you and huffs a small laugh, letting you know he was joking. Maybe. Hopefully.
His cock springs free once his boxers are off and he groans when it slaps his stomach, leaving a bead of his precum on his tip. Your eyes shamelessly stare at him. You were by no means an expert when it came to sex but you grew both worried and aroused at how massive he was.
“There is…no way it’s gonna fit.”
Miguel rips the plastic with his teeth and rolls the condom on his dick to the base. For a moment, you’re disappointed that he added protection. Just for a moment, though. He breathes out and gives soft strokes to his shaft while looking at you from beneath him.
He feels his cock pulse and throb, growing harder by the second just by the sight of your perfectly sculpted naked body. He thought you were divine. Placing his hands on either side of your head, he leans down to kiss you as if trying to ease your worries.
“It’ll fit, I promise. It’ll feel so good, too.” He whispers, his lips brushing against yours. “I’ll go slow.”
He takes one hand to lift your thigh up just enough to give him space to rub his cock between your wet folds.
“Miguel…!” You gasp while you feel just how hard he was.
He shushes you. “I know, nena. Look what you do to me. Feel what you did to me.” He buries himself in your neck, nipping at your skin and you tilt your head back. More of your arousal soaks his cock, creating wet sounds while you grind on each other and Miguel shudders. He bites into your shoulder and fights against his instinct to shove his cock inside and fuck you into your own mattress.
Miguel kisses the spot he bit, his breathing labored and heavy. “Tell me if it hurts, mama, okay?”
You nod, your eyes screwed shut. “Uh-huh…”
Slowly, Miguel looks down and makes sure his tip splits your folds apart as he enters inside you. Your breath hitches and you tighten your arms around his neck. “Miguel!” You whine while he penetrates you. He kisses your temple and stops when only his tip is inside you.
“You’re doing great, nena. No te preocupes, lo estás haciendo bien.” He reassures you with a shaky voice. It’s clear he’s holding back. You whimper apologies and Miguel kisses across your cheeks to try and return your focus on him instead of the new stretch you’re feeling. He praises you in a mix of Spanish and English–ones you can barely hear.
He moves his hand down between your legs and gently rubs your clit with your thumb in hopes of loosening you up. With the added stimulation, you moan and hide in his neck with your eyes shut. You weakly thrust up, feeling a bit of relief and allowing Miguel to push further in.
“Good, good,” He purrs. “Just like that, mama. Just let me in.” He groans and hisses when you clench around him. Miguel’s thumb switches between a fast and slow pace, sliding in his cock easily until you cry out and dig your nails into his skin, leaving small crescent shapes.
“Stop, stop–” You whimper.
“I’ll pull out–It’s okay–”
“No!” You keep him close to you. “No, I just–I need a minute.” You sniffle, your body slowly adjusting around his girth.
Miguel nods and pulls back enough to meet your eyes. “Okay. Okay, whatever you need. At your pace, remember?” He rests his forehead against yours. You open your eyes to see his cheeks flushed, a bit of sweat running down his temple and he shakes with every breath. Despite his current state of desire, he’s putting you first–he’s putting your comfort first.
“Thank you.” You whine softly. Miguel huffs, leaning down to kiss the corner of your eyes.
“Don’t thank me for that, nena. Never.” Miguel continues to pamper you with kisses, murmuring about how beautiful you are, how well you’re taking him, how he can’t get enough of you. He nuzzles into your neck, rolling lazily over your clit and does gentle thrusts of whatever you were able to handle.
After a few moments, you grab his attention by running your hands through his hair, fingernails scratching over his shaved parts. “Okay…more, please.”
He lifts himself up and holds your hips with both his hands. His thumbs caress your hip bones as he pushes himself deeper. You moan and tilt your head back, biting your lip as the combination of pain and pleasure hits your stomach and through every nerve in your body.
It felt like forever until he reached the hilt, the light smack of his balls hitting your pussy. Miguel smiles. “Good girl,” he licks his lips. “Mirame.”
Your head tilts back down to see both of you finally connected. “Holy shit…” You whisper, the sight making you clench. Miguel moans and grips your hips tighter, his head falling forward as he takes a deep breath.
“Fuck, don’t tighten around me like that.”
“Sorry!” You squeak and he chuckles. He raises his head back up, hair falling in front of his face and a lazy smile on his face that shows his fangs–his piercings glinting in the dim moonlight.
“Don’t be. It’s just, you feel so fucking good–you’ll make me cum.”
You cover your face and resist the urge to scream. The heat emanating from your face made you sweaty. Miguel takes your wrists and pins them to the side of your head. He cocks a pierced eyebrow up with a smirk. It softens when he sees just how flushed your expression is.
“‘m gonna move, okay?”
You gulp and give him the green light. Miguel looks down and slowly pulls out, watching your slick drench his condom covered cock. “Jesus…” He groans under his breath. He looks back up to see if there’s any sign of discomfort on your end but he’s met with your eyes glued between your legs as well. Your eyebrows are scrunched up in pleasure, mouth agape with shallow breaths while you watch him slowly ease out of you.
Miguel’s eyes darken with lust and he pushes back in once his tip was kissing your heat. He watches as you roll your head back, your eyes rolling behind your skull when you felt his cock filling you up again.
“Oh my God…” You moan. “Miguel…”
Miguel’s heart jumps and his hands tighten around your wrists. Still, he’s careful.
For a few minutes, Miguel continues his slow thrusting. He pulls out sweet moans and whimpers from you, getting you used to his massive size and stretching your cunt out to the shape of him. His tip nudges against your cervix and you jump which makes him grin.
After those few minutes, you began writhing underneath him. The pain had subsided and now this soft stroking was sweet but it wasn’t doing anything for you anymore. Your hands clenched and unclenched into fists.
“Miguel, Mig–more,” You begged. “Faster.”
“You sure?” He slows to a stop and you furrow your eyebrows in annoyance which he doesn’t notice.
He’s about to ask again after your lack of response when you lock your ankles around his waist, shoving him back inside you. You and Miguel moan in unison, Miguel nearly falling on top of you if he didn’t catch himself by resting on his elbows by your head. His breath fanned your face and he looked down into your eyes with a heavy blush.
“More.” You moan and Miguel quickly goes to work.
He leans on one elbow and places his other hand down to your hip to start picking up his pace. Miguel attaches his lips to your chest, biting the plump flesh of your tits before taking your nipple in his mouth once again. Your hands go around his back, your nails raking down his spine that leave red streaks. He pushes himself further against you, folding you in half while he increases his speed, abusing your pussy by slamming his cock in and out of you.
Your squealing and moaning becomes music to Miguel’s ears. He groans and licks his tongue around your nipple, lapping it back in his mouth to suck on it. His nails dig into your waist while the sound of skin slapping signaling just how desperate he is to fill you with his cock.
“Atta girl,” He moans after moving up to your neck with wet open mouthed kisses. “Knew you could take all of me. Knew you would sound so pretty crying all over my cock.” He smirks, looking up to see your eyes rolled back, tears brimming your eyes in ecstasy instead of pain this time. Your pussy spasms around him as you whimper.
“Mig–Mig–” You babble mindlessly. The only thing on your mind is Miguel, Miguel and Miguel. “So–so good…” You slur, vision going hazy while the lust clouded your mind.
Miguel’s ego inflates, his dick twitching inside you. Even with a condom he could still feel your pussy contract around him, your warm walls sucking him in deeper. Your hips wiggle and buck weakly to match his thrusts but ultimately Miguel does all the work, sending your mind spinning while he practically fucks all your thoughts, fears, and insecurities from your brain—turning you into a dumb cock-drunk mess.
Through the haze, you can hear your juices sloppily smacking between you and Miguel–an erotic sound of wet plaps, his balls becoming slick and sticky with your arousal.
“God, you feel so good,” He moans, hips stuttering. “It’s like your cunt is just begging for my cum. You want it? Huh? This tight little pussy gonna milk me dry?” He quickened his pace, humping against you in fast short thrusts.
You scratch his back, multiple lines of red marking his skin while your toes curl. “Yes, please, please, please–I wanna,” You babble through gasps. “It’s so good–I wanna cum–Don’t stop…!” Your voice becomes high pitched, your hips lifting to grind yourself on him. The both of you fucking one another exactly like horny college kids.
Miguel growls, nipping at your neck to add more hickeys to your body. “Never. Holy shit–you’re so fucking sexy,” He cuts himself off with a groan, his sweaty forehead falling to your shoulder while he humps you. “Never letting you go. This pussy is mine.”
His thumb finds your clit again, his fingers slowly being drenched with your messy juices that had spread all around your labia, smearing around your pussy with the help of Miguel’s unstable thrusting. His cold rings bumped against your hot skin, the difference in temperature becoming another factor in your raw lust. Your screams of pleasure bounced off the walls.
“C’mon pretty girl. Cum for me. I know you’re close.” He pants in your ear.
“Mig–gy!” You choke out, eyes squinted in ecstasy as Miguel helps you reach your climax. It wasn’t anything you’ve experienced before. White hot numbing pleasure waving through your body as you spasmed. Your orgasm shook your entire body and you clutched onto him tightly, your legs keeping him near, nails finding purchase in his back and arching your breasts up to his chest, nipples sensitive to the touch.
Miguel followed right after: rubbing your clit faster and his balls ached with a tightness before releasing his seed into the condom, his cock twitching as it spurts out his cum. He moans loudly, his body shivering and shaking along with you but he still helps you come down from the high, pumping weakly as he empties himself. Your body falls limp, head lolled back while Miguel breaths heavily. He pulls out as gently as you can but your virgin cunt wasn’t used to such stimulation, each inch back caressed your sensitive nerves up until he finally left with a pop.
Miguel’s hands shook as he took off the condom, body now covered in cold sweat now that the heat of the momentum was gone. He stumbled off your bed and tied the condom shut then dumped it in the small bin in your dorm room. He slipped back in your bed beside you, smiling to himself when you took deep breaths with your eyes closed.
“Hey, you alright?” He asks with a soft wheeze.
“Huh?” You barely heard him over the heartbeat pounding in your head. The blood flow goes through your body normally once again. “Hm? Oh. Mhm. Yeah.”
Miguel chuckles, resting on one elbow with his cheek in his palm and brushes your sweaty hair back from your face. “Yeah? You were amazing.”
“Really?” You try to look up at him through the exhaustion in your eyes. Who knew sex could take all your energy? Miguel grabs your folded fuzzy blanket and unravels it to drape it on top of you two.
“Really. I’m honored to be your first.”
You blush at the reminder that you hadn’t had sex before and the reminder that you were no longer a virgin. You stare at his face while his hands caress your cheeks, his thumb rubbing the side of your neck right under your jawline.
“Do you really like me?” You find yourself asking him.
Miguel’s hand stops moving and he looks surprised. “Yeah,” He confirms gently. “I wouldn’t fuck you if I didn’t. I don’t have sex with just anyone.” He pulls your cheek.
You frown and pout at him. “I'm serious!”
Miguel chuckles. “I know, I know.” He tilts your chin up with his index finger and leans down to kiss you sweetly for a quick peck. He knows what’s really on your mind.
“My pretty girl.” He hums as he stares down at you to admire the afterglow of your orgasm. “All mine. My pretty girl.” He dunks his head down to your chest, wrapping his arms around you to pull you in his embrace and snuggles you.
Your heart flutters. Pretty. It hits you then that Miguel really does think you’re pretty. You feel his ear piercings against your chest and the rings on his fingers running up and down the curve of your spine. His fingers find your white ribbon, crumpled under you and he twirls it around his ring finger. You struggle to hold back your smile as you hug him back, nuzzling your nose in his hair and falling asleep with the comfort of knowing someone genuinely finds you beautiful, inside and out.
a/n: im sorry i wasnt normal i just love a good trope and punk miguel i cant help but make him cute
I'll make this quick but I'd like to introduce myself. You can call me Bee and I'm 22 years old! I'm a college student and I'm NOT majoring in any type of writing so any mistakes in my work, please spare me as this is mostly for fun. I'm Colombian-American so my main goal is to make most, if not all, my Y/N's be able to speak/understand Spanish haha.
SFW and NSFW asks are welcome! Please specify if you would like a GN or Fem Reader :)
Series
Dr. Miguel O'Hara 💕
Little Miguel, Big Miguel 💕 Pt. 2, Pt.3
A Knight's Oath 💕❤️🩹 2
Shorts
Snowfall 💕
-Origins 💕
-Godly Outing 💕
Him and I 💋
-Pt 2💋
What a Man! 💕
-Pt2 💕❤️🩹
Best Friend's Brother💋
Oneshots
Worth the Wait 💋💌
Back Muscles 💕
That Day 💕❤️🩹
Melting 💋💌
Pretty in Pink 💋💌
First Meeting 💕❤️🩹💌
Special Surprise💋💌
Forced Proximity💋💌
Love Between💕💌
On the Low💋
Impurities💋💕💌
Here, Kitty Kitty
Power of the Sun
Hands
Quiet Loving💕
Eye for an Eye
Extras
Valentine Special: 1, 2, 3
Play with Me!: An Interactive Series: one, two, three
Nerdy!Miguel Blurb Series: one, two, three, four, five
Punk!Miguel and Pastel!Reader Blurb series from Impurities: one, two, three
Last Updated: March 27th, 2024.
hi babe, i saw this miguel o’hara request you did! how do i request for a sketch x me/self-insert and how do i pay for it?
Hello :D First of, I apologise if it took so long to answer this, I didn't notice it until today 🥲
Second. If you are interested in commissioning me, you can message me on Instagram (@ Lara OliVi, I have the same pfp) and we can talk the details about it when I open my comms :))) which will be in around 1 week. 🫶 I also have a post on my Instagram account with prices, terms and conditions, and examples of my work. :D
Thank you for the ask and have a great day/night!!! 🤌🌷
@greensagephase IK THE TEXT HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH THAT SCENE- BUT I WAS LOOKING THROUGH MY SCREENSHOTS OF PART 13 AND IT JUST FELT RIGHT 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹 LIKE. HE SAID THAT RIGHT AT THE BEGINNING AND I JUST FEEL LIKE DEEP DOWN HE THOUGHT OF Y/N WHEN HE SAID “HOME” AND I UGHHH- 🥹😭🥹💕💕💕 I love them (Ik it’s TAKEN SO LONG to post this. I just had a lot on my plate and I LITERALLY FORGOT about this sketch. my apologies :’)) 😭😭
I get a lot of questions about how I choose colors, and what it really comes down to is: I just play around with the color scheme until I like what I see.
This is a little preview of my latest video which talks about which tools I use to modify the colors! The full video also includes some paint-overs of other people’s artwork ~ those are always so much fun to do ✨ Find it here: https://www.patreon.com/posts/tutorial-colors-98597276
YESSSS!!!!! THIS PART RIGHT HERE!!!!! 💕😭💕 YOUR ART IS SCRUMPTIOUS!!!!! The lighting??!!! The blush??!! Both your oc and Miguel’s facial expressions???!!! This is- It’s perfect. The background??!! LOVE YOUR ART!!! 💕✨😭💕
you popped the question out loud to your roommate suddenly. miguel had his eyes on an old western movie playing on the tv in front. he glanced over to where you were, sat on the opposite end of the couch.
you didn’t miss the eyebrow he raised at you, asking you, “why?”
you shrug your shoulders.
“I just want to.” you lied, telling only half of the truth.
the full truth was that you had currently been taking little glances at your roommate whilst he was watching the movie. he hadn’t noticed you at all, instead thinking that you were just on your phone blissfully unaware of your thoughts praising his side profile.
he’s too pretty to not draw, you think, your spark of inspiration too overwhelming to ignore.
whilst you dashed to your room to grab your art supply you left Miguel slightly dazed in his thoughts. he knew you did art, peaking a little into your room he saw a few canvases laying around — he didn’t look too closely to know what they were but by the looks of it, you seemed decent.
often he’d catch you sketching out in the living room but before he could get a glimpse of what you were drawing, you headed back to your room.
so he assumes that your art was private. by letting you draw him, he assumes you’d grown more confident in sharing your art.
“okay just face yourself towards me.”
he does so, facing you. he has a relaxed expression on his face, entirely different from the frown that he usually wears.
he’s pretty. more than pretty. gorgeous.
his hooded eyelids, his cheekbones, the shape of his nose, his plump lips. you have to hold yourself back from rushing to draw his features.
“oh wow—“ he cuts himself off.
“do you like it?”
his mouth is slightly agape as he stares at the portrait.
“wait, you drew that in what? fifteen minutes?”
you look down at the portrait again, squinting your eyes. “ahh well, it’s not perfect, if I had more time maybe I would change a few things and details but—“
“it’s perfect.”
you look back at Miguel, a smile drawn across his lips.
“can—can I keep it?”
“really? I can do another one—“
“no, I want that one.” He says before adding.
“it’s perfect, hermosa.”
you assume that he’s talking about the drawing. not you.
Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x SpiderFemaleReader (colleagues to friends to lovers; currently in the friendship era, so no romance.)
Summary: New Year's with your spidey friends and Miguel.
Word Count: 7,526
Warnings: A little bittersweet at the beginning; Reader eats meat (sorry to my readers that don't consume meat; I just realized I've included so many meals throughout the fic with meat and never thought of nonmeat eaters); terms in Spanish are included but translations can be found at the end; some crying but they're happy tears; soft Miguel; fireworks
Short A/N: This is a one-shot for my Nonviolent Communication fanfic but can be read as a standalone.
Masterlist
Happy New Year!!
You close the door of your apartment, making sure it’s locked before you walk down the hallway. You make your way down the building, fixing the scarf you threw around your neck earlier since your city is experiencing strong winds today on top of low temperatures. You could’ve easily just stuck to swinging around the city for what you’re doing but you remember that it has been years, since your Peter died, that you’ve walked the streets of your own city on New Year’s Eve.
The two of you used to go out each year, holding hands amongst the crowd before you found your way to the center of the celebration, joining other citizens to welcome the new year. Peter always held you close, your back pressed to his chest to keep you warm as the two of you enjoyed the performances of artists. And then at midnight, you’d welcome the new year with a kiss and a “I love you.”
“Did you unplug the lights?” a feminine voice asks as you reach the lobby of your apartment building.
“No,” a second voice, a woman, replies.
“Girl, you know the landlord said to not leave the lights on for long periods of time because of a short circuit.”
“It’ll be fine,” the second voice responds.
You turn sideways as you hear the young women join you, coming from a different floor than yours. You face the front again, not paying attention to their discussion as you’re lost in your thoughts regarding the last New Year’s Eve you shared with Peter. It was so long ago, and you silently wonder, where did the time go? If you try hard enough, you can almost feel Peter’s lips against yours; so sweet, so tender, so gentle… So Peter.
At last, you exit the building with the young women behind you and go in a different direction than them. You fix the scarf once again, but this time closer to your neck as you immediately feel the chilly breeze on your skin. You walk the street, hands in your coat’s pockets as you move alone. The sun is already setting even though it’s early in the afternoon, and the streets are, as always, busy and filled with so much energy. As you walk past people, you take it all in, the realization hitting you more now. You’re walking the streets on New Year’s Eve again after years.
In the last few years, you went out to patrol, watching from rooftops in solitude. You managed to cut your friends off in a short amount of time following Peter’s death, so the first holidays without him were spent completely alone, and every year after that was the same. You never stayed out close to midnight, especially on New Year's Eve, for you couldn’t bear the sight of kissing couples. It hurt too much. Instead, you found yourself at home, settled in your once shared bed, alone. That’s the way it was, until last year, when the Morales family invited you to their building’s party and then found yourself once again in Miguel’s penthouse because Mr. and Mrs. Morales asked if you could take him food just like you had for Christmas Eve.
You head to your usual flower spot, picking up a variety of them before you head to your destination. When you reach the cemetery, you find other people, visiting loved ones one last time before the year ends. You find your parents’ graves and change their flowers from last week before you move to Aunt May’s, and at last, to your Peter’s. On one knee, you kneel on the cold and frozen ground after you move some snow away, and proceed to clean his grave like you did the others. You clear away snow and find last week’s flowers, frozen. You replace them with the fresh ones, arranging them nicely for him.
“Happy New Year’s Eve, Peter,” you whisper softly. You look around slowly, the figures of other people meeting your gaze before you return it to Peter’s grave. “So, last night when I was out on patrol, I heard one of the craziest things I’ve ever heard. I think it would’ve made you laugh…” you start as you talk to him like you always do, telling him about your patrolling. You always focus on the night shift because the nights are always the craziest. You tell him about what happened over the week, the universes you went to, the missions, the little moments between you and your friends, all of it.
By the time you’re done, the sky is fully dark. You sigh softly and look up, noticing that you’re alone at the cemetery now. You rub your cheek softly, feeling the coldness. The kneeling has created a cold and damp spot on your pants, allowing you to feel it on your skin. You can almost hear Peter telling you to stand up and go home, to shield yourself from the cold.
You smile softly as you hear his voice in your head. Sometimes you like to imagine that he sits in front of you or on his stone, smiling at you as he listens to you talk, maybe even adding his thoughts despite you being unable to hear them. You know better than to do that, but it used to bring you comfort in the first months after his death.
“I miss you,” you whisper. “I always do, Peter.”
You imagine Peter now, returning the words you’ve whispered.
“I miss you more, love.”
You smile in the darkness of the cemetery, the wind blowing against you, causing you to shiver.
“Go home, darling. It’s too cold. Go home, please.”
You stand up and pull your pants at the knee to relief yourself from the unpleasant cold sensation and sigh. “I do need to go home. As I’ve told you, I have plans,” you tell him with a smile. “I’m meeting with the group and then with Miguel. He insisted on cooking. Again,” you say with a soft chuckle. “I don’t know what he’s making but I just know it’s going to be amazing. He’s an amazing cook, Peter. I’ve already told you about it but he really is great... In many ways,” you state softly as you look down at your wrist, where your gizmo rests. Your fingertips touch it delicately.
“From what you’ve told me, he sounds like a great man, love.”
You smile softly and nod at no one, feeling an ache in your chest. You’re uncertain if it will ever truly fade.
“I love you, Peter,” you whisper pressing a kiss to your fingertips before pressing them to the gravestone. “I’ll always love you, no matter what.”
“I love you, darling. Forever. Never forget that.”
You straighten up and sigh again, feeling the winter breeze biting your skin. You pick up the frozen flowers that you’ve collected from all the graves to dispose of them appropriately and nod at Peter’s gravestone.
“Happy New Year, love. We’ll see what this new year brings, hm? I look forward to it. I know you’ll be there with me along the way.”
“Forever, darling.”
You nod once again before you head home, keeping an eye out for any threats but there seems to be nothing amiss. You return home and prepare your belongings. You baked some cakes for the party at Miles’s universe and one more on top of other sweets for when you head to Miguel’s.
You head to the first universe, where you spend close to two hours. As soon as you arrive, you're welcomed by Miles's neighbors who have grown to know you, or at least the version all the spider members agreed you'd play, Miles’s school mentor. You're eventually greeted by Miles and his parents and in a matter of minutes, you find yourself with a plate full of food and sitting under the water tower with all your friends. The ambiance is lively with outside twinkling lights hanging all across the rooftop. The scent of food fills the air and the building's DJ is keeping the mood light with their song choices. You have a great time, listening and talking with your friends about the year, recalling memories you've made over the three hundred and sixty-five days.
At last, you depart from the party, but not before giving each of your friends, including Mary Jane, Mayday, and Gayatri, a hug for the new year since you most likely won't see them until later tomorrow. You head back to your universe to pick up the last baked items and then head to Miguel's just on time.
You immediately find yourself in Miguel's living room. Music fills the air thanks to Miguel’s new record player that you gifted him just a few days ago for Christmas. The thought of him already using it so much warms your heart.
“Hey.”
You turn to the voice. Miguel. Your smile grows at the sight of him as he stands at the entrance of his living room, looking cozy as always in a beige turtleneck sweater. He gives you a soft smile with pink cheeks, probably from the heat of the kitchen since he cooked dinner.
“Hey, Happy New Year’s Eve,” you say.
“Happy New Year’s Eve. May I take that?” he asks, gesturing to your reusable bag with baked sweets.
You nod and walk closer to him, he meets you halfway and takes the bag from you gently.
“I baked a cake and a few other things. Also, Mr. and Mrs. Morales sent you food. I packed it in there as well. They wish you a Happy New Year,” you tell him, passing on the well wishes from the Morales family.
“Thank you for bringing it. I’ll be sending them a thank you card this week with Miles,” Miguel answers, still smiling.
He tells you to follow him as he leads the way to his kitchen and dining area, the scent of food immediately surrounding you. Like always, Miguel places your bag of baked sweets on the counter before he turns and gestures to your coat. He offers to help take it off, and you let him, finding some relief once it’s off. After hanging your coat, Miguel leads you to the stove to show you everything he’s cooked.
“Una taquiza,” Miguel says. “I cooked different meats like carne asada, chorizo, al pastor, and two more, **so we have options. I also made three different salsas, and of course there’s the toppings, like cilantro and diced onion, and a few other things.”
You smile at Miguel’s set up and tell him what kind of tacos you want. As always, Miguel serves you your food, asking you to take a seat once you tell what you want. He moves through the kitchen with ease as he prepares your food, talking quietly with you as music continues to fill the air. Not long after, the two of you sit side by side, enjoying delicious tacos topped with cilantro and diced onion and the salsas Miguel prepped, even with some grilled banana peppers and a glass with agua de Jamaica.
All throughout dinner, the two of you talk about the year and other things. You even share with Miguel that you visited your loved ones earlier, which leads Miguel to tell you about his own visit to Conchata and Gabriel’s resting place. Noticing the look on his face, probably about Gabriella, you change the subject to the record player, which instantly lights up his eyes.
“I’ve ordered more records,” he says, as the two of you head to the living room, after taking care of dishes. “I got you a few that I remembered you like as well. They’ll be arriving in a few days.”
You glance at him, smiling softly. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to,” he says quietly, hands in his pockets as the two of you stand in front of the record player.
“Thank you,” you answer, equally quiet.
“Always.”
You sigh softly as you listen to the music. It’s a record from your universe that you gifted Miguel so he could start his own collection. The two of you hang out in his living room, listening to music as Miguel tells you about the records he bought. You can’t help but smile as you see his excitement about them, making you feel more than satisfied with your decision to gift Miguel his own record player.
An hour later, the two of you sit in his living room. You’re each on one of his couches, the music still playing, yet it’s a different record now. The fireplace is on and outside, the citizens of Nueva York are already setting off fireworks. For a few seconds, you both stay quiet, listening to the music and fireworks until Miguel breaks the silence.
“What if…” Miguel starts, thinking about something that’s been on his mind.
You look at him, wondering what he’s going to say.
“What if… we go to Miles’s universe?” he asks quietly, meeting your gaze. “So, we can be with them as the new year starts.”
You stare at him, blinking softly as you realize he said “we” not “you” meaning…
“You want to…?” you start but trail off, trying to confirm that you’re understanding what he’s saying.
Miguel continues to hold your gaze with a soft smile on his face. “We can find a nearby rooftop…”
“One that’s empty so we don’t attract attention,” you finish, smiling.
“Yes. Do you want to?”
You nod, smiling. “If you’re up to it, yes but - please don’t feel pressured to if you’re not comfortable with it.”
Miguel shakes his head. “Last year you didn’t get to exactly see them as the new year started. You were here with me. I know how much they mean to you, and how much you mean to them. I don’t want you to… choose,” Miguel explains. “As long as it’s an empty rooftop, I’ll be fine. Promise,” he adds to reassure you as he notices your concern.
“Okay, but if at any point you don’t feel like it any more, please don’t hesitate to tell me and we can come back,” you reply softly.
“Will do,” he tells you with a soft smile.
“Alright, but you want to bundle up. It’s freezing. Go on and put more layers,” you tell him.
Miguel continues to smile, finding your concern for him regarding the weather sweet. “Alright, I’ll be right back,” he says before he heads upstairs to his bedroom. He quickly goes through his closet, finding a coat that he slips on in seconds. He grabs a scarf and throws it around his neck before he grabs the mittens you gifted him just a few day ago. In a minute, he’s on his way back downstairs.
You turn from a window just as he steps back into the living room. You find yourself unable to tear your eyes away at the sight of him in a coat. For some reason, the sight makes you feel something you can’t quite pinpoint in the moment but you brush it off. Your eyes move to the mittens, the ones you gifted him a few days ago, in one of his hands before he leads the two of you back to the kitchen where he places the mittens on the counter. He walks towards the cupboards.
“I just thought that we could use something to keep us warm,” he says as he pulls out two thermos.
You raise an eyebrow in curiosity before you watch him open a pot that’s been sitting at the back of his stove, one that he didn’t open earlier. You smile as you guess what’s inside, and sure enough, Miguel confirms your suspicions as he begins to pour café de olla into one thermos before moving to the next one. He turns around to face you, holding the two thermos now.
“Ready?” he asks as he hands you one before he grabs his mittens with his free hand now.
“Ready,” you reply as you hold your thermos, already wearing your coat and your other accessories since you put everything back on while he went upstairs.
The two of you head back to his living room where Miguel opens a multidimensional portal to Miles’s universe. In a matter of seconds, you’re both standing on an empty rooftop. You lead the way to Miles’s building, knowing your way around more than Miguel does. You swing from rooftop to rooftop, with Miguel behind. He follows you closely, grinning to himself as you sneak past rooftops with people having their own parties until at last, you stop on the closest empty rooftop to Miles’s building.
The two of you stand side by side, looking across to where your group of friends are. As always, they’re hanging out by the water tower, away from the crowd to avoid raising suspicions, especially with Noir and Spider-Ham. You wait a few seconds before you notice their spidey senses go off, causing them to turn towards Miguel and you. You wave at them as they stare back with shocked faces. You grin as you realize the reason, turning to look at Miguel, who stares at them as he holds his thermos. His face is relaxed. There’s no smile or grin but there’s also no glare.
“Miguel… If you-” you stop when Miguel turns to look at you.
“It’s alright… I’m alright, don’t worry. I’m just thinking about how it’s actually really cold. Are you okay with your coat?” he asks, glancing at your attire with concern in his eyes.
“Oh, yes. I’m okay, don’t worry,” you reassure him just as you notice your friends swing towards the rooftop you’re on.
“Well… this is a surprise,” Peter B. says as he places Mary Jane down, who nods while holding Mayday.
“A big surprise,” Pav adds, as he lands with Gayatri.
The rest of the group lands on the rooftop, staring at Miguel and you like you’ve grown an extra head. You give them a subtle look, asking them not to stare because you don’t want Miguel to feel uncomfortable or overwhelm when he’s trying. Thankfully, your friends catch your drift, hiding their surprise as they begin to greet the two of you.
“You guys hungry? There’s still so much food left, we could all probably eat seconds,” Miles says offering.
“Is there still some of that flan left?” you ask with shiny eyes, which Miguel notices.
“Yeah! I can bring you guys some food. To be honest, I feel kind of hungry myself,” Miles says with a little frown.
“You know… Me, too,” Noir replies.
“We’ll get some food, then” Miles says. “Be right back.”
You watch as Miles, Hobie, Margo, and Gwen swing back to the other rooftop. You watch in amusement as you see webs flying around, gathering food.
“And no one notices,” Miguel says amused as he notices the webs, too.
“Everyone is too busy talking,” you murmur softly, turning around as Noir and Spider-Ham approach Miguel.
“Nice mittens,” Noir tells Miguel. “Helpful for a piercing, cold night like this.”
“This kind of weather takes me back to when…” Spider-Ham begins, sharing some story from his universe with Noir and Miguel as you’re suddenly but gently pulled backwards.
“Um, hi?” you say as you find Mary Jane and Peter B., each holding on to one of your arms and tugging you away from Miguel.
“So…” Mary Jane starts, holding Mayday, who also seems to be staring at you with curiosity.
“So?” you repeat, sounding more like a question.
“How did you do it?” Peter B. asks.
“Did what?” you ask confused once they stop pulling you. You look around them to see Miguel. His back is to you as Spider-Ham is still talking. Noir gives you a quick glance before he turns his attention back to Porker. You suddenly feel like this is some little plan.
“How did you get Miguel to agree to attend? He never likes to go to anything, even HQ events,” Peter B. says, confused.
“I… Didn’t. He offered.”
“Oh,” Mary Jane simply says.
“What?” Peter B. says.
Mayday laughs in Mary Jane’s arms.
“Are you guys okay?” you ask.
“We’re perfectly fine,” Mary Jane says with a glance to Peter.
“Yeah, we’re fine. Just… chatting,” he replies.
“Right…” you answer, giving them each a glance.
You turn to Mary Jane as she’s called over by Gwen, who has returned to the rooftop with some food. She heads over, carrying Mayday away and leaving you with Peter B. alone. You raise an eyebrow as he stares at you. He shakes his head and smiles, throwing an arm around your shoulders.
“Kid… I don’t know how you did it but… I’m glad,” he says as the two of you stare at Miguel. He’s still caught up with Noir and Spider-Ham, but seems to feel the gazes because he looks over his shoulder. His eyebrows furrow as he realizes you’re not near him anymore. Peter looks away, trying to hide the fact that he was staring. You, however, continue to stare back at Miguel. He meets your gaze before his eyes, subtly and without your knowledge, follow Peter’s arm around your shoulder. He gives you a slight nod before turning back to Noir and Porker.
“He offered. I didn't ask him,” you tell Peter B. quietly once Miguel has turned his attention back to the two men.
Peter nods, smiling. “He's… I'm just really happy for him and for you.”
You smile at him, remembering his talk from Thanksgiving, when he told you that he was happy you and Miguel were moving forward and had each other after being closed off and distanced from others for so long.
“Thank you,” you whisper and he nods.
“I just hope… You know what this means. It’s a big step for Miguel, Y/N. A very big one. And I’m so proud of him. And of you. The two of you have come so far and - ugh, I’m growing sentimental, aren’t I?” he asks with a soft groan. “I already had to stop myself earlier, just thinking about another year passing and Mayday growing up too fast for my liking but I just - I’m proud of Miguel, you, and all of us. And, I feel good about the future. About this new year, you know? I think we’re going to be okay,” he says as the two of you watch the other spiderlings swing back to the rooftop. “Everything is going to be okay.”
“I have a good feeling, too,” you answer before you repeat his words. “Everything is going to be okay.”
“Hey! I got the flan!” Miles says, waving you and Peter B. over.
You chuckle and nudge Peter B.. “C’mon, your favorite. You better hurry up before I eat it all.”
“I’ve already eaten two slices, I don’t think I can - or should - eat another one,” he replies with a frown.
“More for me,” you answer as the two of you head over to the group where food is being passed out.
You end up taking a seat on the edge of the rooftop with a plate on your lap. Once settled, you gesture to Miguel to join you and wait for him, shivering slightly as a cold breeze hits you. You’re surprised when you feel something being wrapped around your neck before the fabric rolls down your front - a scarf, Miguel’s to be specific. You look up at him as he takes a seat next to you, opting to sit on the side from which the breeze is coming from, and not by accident. Miguel purposely chooses this side to shield you from the breeze with his own frame.
“Your scarf,” you tell him quietly as you hear your friends talking in the back, though you pay no attention.
“You’re cold,” Miguel simply answers as he brings a piece of flan to his mouth with a fork, avoiding your gaze.
You nod. “If you need it back, please let me know.”
He turns to look at you again, nodding. “This flan is amazing. No wonder Peter had two slices.”
You chuckle as you bring your own fork to your mouth but stop halfway as Miguel’s words truly sink in about Peter and the flan. Did Miguel hear what Peter and you were talking about previously? You look over at him but his face reveals nothing.
All your friends end up sitting on the edge of the rooftop to eat, joining Miguel and you. You notice Miles sits on Miguel’s other side, keeping enough distance to respect his tío’s boundaries. You look at yourself, realizing you’re too close to him, so you subtly shift over, moving closer to Margo, who raises an eyebrow at you. You shrug and keep eating as someone says there’s only forty minutes left before the new year.
As you eat, your friends share funny things that have happened so far after you left the party earlier with Miguel and you. You’re so engrossed in the conversation that you don’t even notice it until you bring your arm down from eating that Miguel seems to have moved closer to you. It becomes clear when you brush arms with him. You keep your gaze on the party scene, listening to the music the DJ is playing for the night. Your face reveals nothing but you’re silently thinking about Miguel’s scarf wrapped around your neck, the warmth from him being near, and how he’s blocking the cold breeze with his body, which makes you wonder if he did it on purpose. You realize, he did.
Your attention is redirected when you spot Mr. and Mrs. Morales from across the rooftop, waving at all of you. You greet them with a smile and a wave before looking sideways, finding Miguel giving a wave of his own and a nod of appreciation before he turns to Miles.
“Please give my gratitude to your parents for the invitation and the amazing food, mijo.”
“I- I will, tío. Thank you. I can already tell you they’re happy you’re here,” Miles replies gently.
Miguel gives Miles a nod, a hint of a smile on his lips that leaves Miles with wide eyes.
You turn away and continue to eat, smiling to yourself.
“I think I’m going to grab another slice of flan,” Miguel mutters to you.
“I think - I probably shouldn’t. I’ve eaten way too much sugar today and I’m going to pay for it later when I can’t sleep,” you reply with a grin.
“Well, you have the day off tomorrow, so you can stay up without any worries,” he replies, meeting your gaze. “I’m probably going to stay up late, too, so...” Miguel trails off.
“Staying up on nights like these is fun, especially with… amazing people.”
“I think so, too,” he replies, giving you a soft grin.
Caught up in your own little world, neither of you notice Miles’s parents still watching from across the rooftop, with a smile on their faces.
“Mira, she did it,” Mrs. Morales says with a soft smile as they watch you and Miguel sitting side by side, talking like nothing, even noticing the small grin the leader and founder of the Spider Society gives you. “I told you,” she adds, as they turn around to head back to the party.
“Well, we’re yet to see it fully happen” Mr. Morales responds.
“Con esas miradas… Jeff, be honest here,” she replies, eliciting a laugh from Mr. Morales before he pulls her closer.
“Time will tell, mi amor.”
Shortly after, you look at the time on your gizmo. There’s only twenty minutes left until the new year. You sigh softly as you look down at the next building. You decided to climb up to the next rooftop just for a few moments, especially when Miguel was approached by Spider-Ham again, apparently he didn’t finish his story earlier. You smile and shake your head as you notice Miguel’s eyebrows creased in concentration, looking down at Porker as the latter tells his story.
You look up at the sky, knowing that in a little while, it will be lit up by fireworks, welcoming the new year. You pull your coat closer, trying to shield yourself from the wind as you reflect on the year. It’s your first full year in the Spider Society and only the second year that you’ve spent with friends, with family, after being alone for three years following the death of your Peter, who was the last bit of family you had in your universe. You glance down at your friends, hearing their laughter and chatter as they move about the rooftop and before you know it, tears spill down your eyes.
You quickly wipe them away but more roll down your cheeks, making you turn away to prevent anyone from seeing you. However, a pair of red eyes have been looking after you from the moment you left the rooftop and they immediately notice your tears.
“I’m sorry to interrupt you - do you mind if I just - I need to check something,” Miguel says to Porker. “I’m sorry,” he adds as he’s already heading towards the wall, climbing it within seconds using his webs. He finds you on the other side of the rooftop, your head hanging low. “Y/N?” he says softly, approaching you.
You turn sideways and quickly clean your tears. “Hey, I’m just…” you manage to say. “I think this wind got to me, that’s all.”
Miguel frowns, walking closer to you. “Y/N…”
“I’m okay, Miguel,” you reply softly as you finish wiping your tears, turning to face him at last. You give him a small smile, eyes a little red.
The sight makes Miguel’s heart ache. He’s not okay seeing you like this and it shows on his face as his frown deepens.
“They’re happy tears, I promise,” you say at last. You walk over to the other side, looking down at your friends again. “I was just thinking about… All those years I was alone,” you whisper so softly, your tone carrying some sadness.
The sight of your teary eyes and the sound of your voice makes Miguel wish he could take your sadness away and make it his own.
“I went from having my little family and friends to having no one, and I’m to blame for that. I pushed my friends away, hoping that they’d be safer away from me. I don’t regret my decision but… I won’t lie. Some days felt… Some days were not great but now I have this,” you say pointing down at your friends. You turn to look at him. “I have…”
Miguel holds your gaze, his face expression softening. He gives you a nod, knowing that you’re deciding whether or not to say what you want to say and encouraging you to.
“I have you. I have all of you in my life and I’m so - thankful for it,” you reply with a smile as a few more tears roll down your face. “I’m sorry - I don’t know what got into me,” you apologize, wiping your tears with the back of your hand.
“Don’t apologize,” Miguel whispers as his hands balled into fists. He can’t stand the sight of you crying, even if it’s “happy tears” as you said. He wishes he could reach over and dry them with his hands. “It’s okay… It’s understandable,” Miguel says softly, understanding what you’re going through for he was thinking about it earlier. This year has been so different, so much better than previous years have because he’s had you by his side and the others when he has let them. “They’re…”
“A little family,” you answer and Miguel nods, smiling softly.
A little family. One that neither of you ever expected to have but you do.
“I’m sorry. I guess - I’m feeling a little sentimental especially after going to visit my loved ones,” you say, wiping some tears away and turning to face your friends below.
“It’s okay…” Miguel reassures you, stepping closer as you keep your gaze on the next rooftop.
You nod, trying to blink out the last tears. You don’t want to make Miguel uncomfortable nor dampen the festive mood, even if you’re not sad but just filled with gratitude for the amazing people you have in your life. Your thoughts are interrupted and you’re filled with surprise once again when you feel soft fabric pressed to one of your cheeks.
Miguel stands near you, looking at you with a soft expression on his face. He tried to fight it but in the end, his need to comfort you won over. Now, he gently dabs his scarf, the one still wrapped around your neck, over your cheeks to dry them.
You stand still, frozen by the act, as this is the most intimate gesture Miguel has ever done for you. You feel the softness of the fabric, and how gentle he dabs your skin with it. Even though there’s no skin-to-skin contact, you’re silently overwhelmed by the gesture - by the milestone - Miguel has reached just minutes before the new year arrives.
Noticing your cheeks are dry now, Miguel lets go of the scarf, letting it fall against your coat once again. He takes a step back, avoiding your gaze.
“I…” he starts.
“Thank you, Miguel,” you whisper softly, offering him a small smile of gratitude.
Miguel nods before his red eyes meet yours. You can’t help but notice his red cheeks, and wonder if it’s from the weather or from something else.
“Always,” he replies gently, giving you a soft smile.
“Mayday, this is how you throw a snowball, sweetie. See?” you hear Peter B.’s voice. “Now your turn. You grab it like this and - wait! Look out!”
You turn just as you see a snowball heading your way, straight to your face. You lift your hand to cover yourself but the snowball never hits your hand. Instead, it hits Miguel’s hand because he placed it on front of yours to shield you.
“Peter,” Miguel says, looking down at him.
“I’m sorry - I was trying to teach Mayday but man - she’s got a throw, doesn’t she?” Peter replies with a grin before he laughs, picking up Mayday over his head.
You laugh softly and shake your head. “She’s already so strong. Imagine in a few more years,” you say.
Miguel turns to you, happy to hear you laugh. He smiles. “It’s going to be interesting but… we’ll be there to help out with her. She’ll have great mentors,” he says as he notices Peter offering Mayday to Hobie to carry. The younger Spider-Man accepts, giving her a little salute.
You grin. “That’s true.”
“You guys coming down from up there or?” Hobie asks, glancing at the two of you.
You share a glance with Miguel before you both jump down, joining the group again.
“Five minutes left!!” Gwen announces as she pulls out little hats and glasses with different years printed on them.
“It’s the 2020s here. I forgot,” someone says.
Miguel raises an eyebrow at this. You turn as you hear Margo realize it’s the 2020s in Miles’s universe.
“You’re going to get to celebrate the 2020s,” you tell Miguel, since the 2020s in his universe took place decades ago before he was even born.
“That’s… true,” Miguel answers, realizing it as Gwen passes out hats and glasses with everyone’s year printed on it. He hesitantly accepts his from Gwen before she moves to you, handing you your designated year. You thank her and place the hat on your head, saving the glasses for later.
You look around as everyone puts on their little hats and glasses, finding Peter and Mary Jane fixing Mayday’s but she keeps taking it off. You smile in amusement before turning away to look across the rooftop, to Miles’s building. You can feel the energy change as everyone starts gathering in a group. Someone calls out the time over the the music, which is still lively. You sigh softly. Another year has come and gone but you’re excited about it. You weren’t lying to Peter B. earlier when you told him you have a good feeling about the new year.
Everything is going to be okay.
“Two minutes!” someone says.
You glance at Miguel. He’s still holding his hat and glasses in one hand, staring at the rooftop with Miles’s family and neighbors. There’s a thoughtful look on his face as he silently recalls years when his childhood home hosted large gatherings like this one. He also thinks about the one New Year’s he spent with Gabriella. She was so excited about the fireworks, tugging his sweater for him to look, much like his brother Gabriel did when they were kids. He sighs softly and turns his gaze to you.
“One minute,” Miles says just as everyone gathers around Miguel and you.
You smile at Miguel and give him a little nod as your friends start counting down out loud. He looks at your little hat, grinning softly at the sight.
“Thirty.”
“Twenty-nine.”
“Twenty-eight.”
“Twenty-seven.”
“Twenty-six.”
“Twenty-five.”
“Ah, man. She keeps taking it off, Mary Jane,” Peter complains softly from somewhere.
“We should just leave it,” MJ responds.
You glance back, noticing Mayday in Mary Jane’s arms as she plays around with the glasses. Peter B. holds on to her hat, giving up on trying to place it on her head.
“Fifteen.”
“Fourteen.”
“Thirteen.”
“Twelve.”
“Eleven.”
“Ten.”
You turn back to the front, waiting for the fireworks to illuminate the night sky.
“Mayday!” Mary Jane calls out before you sense something coming your way thanks to your spidey senses.
“Seven.”
You turn and catch Mayday just in time, causing her to laugh. You laugh softy before she flies out of your arms and towards Miguel, climbing up his torso to his shoulders. Miguel looks equally surprised but ready to catch her just in case she falls.
“Four.”
“Three.”
“Two.”
“One! Happy New Year!”
You hear your friends and Miles’s neighbors and family yell just as Mayday slides a pair of glasses on Miguel’s face with the year “2024” on them. She doesn’t do too well of a job, making the glasses dangle from one of his ears. Muffled laughter fills your ears and when you glance around, you find your friends trying not to laugh as Miguel stands there with the standard new year’s eve glasses hanging from only one of his ears while Mayday sits on his head, giggling at the fireworks.
Miguel raises an eyebrow that sends everyone to the edge of the rooftop, pretending that they’re no longer laughing at the sight. You, however, don’t hide your smile even when Miguel turns to face you. Seeing your smile, Miguel’s own lips twitch into a grin.
“Smile!” a voice says out of nowhere. “Got it!”
You turn and find Lyla, floating in midair just a few feet away from the three of you. She very quickly displays the photo, showing Miguel and you smiling at each other with Mayday on his head and the 2024 glasses danging from his face.
“Lyla,” Miguel says, shaking his head.
“The first picture of the year, Miguel! For my new photo album. Happy New Year!” she calls out to everyone, appearing in front of your friends and quickly snapping some photos before she disappears. At the same time, Mayday swings away towards her father’s arms, who quickly wraps his arms around her in a protective embrace.
“She said new photo album. I haven’t found the other one,” Miguel says as he finally slides the glasses off, shaking his head softly, yet there’s some amusement in his voice.
“I’m sure one day she’s going to show it to you. Knowing her,” you reply with a chuckle and he nods, agreeing.
“You’re not wrong… Happy New Year, Y/N,” he says quietly to you as your friends are all hugging now, with a soft smile on his face for your eyes only.
“Happy New Year, Miguel,” you reply, smiling. “I wish you a wonderful year.”
“I wish you a wonderful year, too,” he answers before you receive the first hug from Gwen and Margo.
Miguel watches as you’re hugged one by one by your friends. The gang knows Miguel is not open to physical touch, yet, so they stick to wishing him a happy new year verbally.
A few minutes later, with everyone back on Miles’s rooftop to meet Mr. and Mrs. Morales, Miguel and you stand side by side watching Peter B., Mary Jane, and Mayday, who are in front of the two of you. The Parker's point at the sky for Mayday, showing her the fireworks. You smile at the sight, distracted by it.
“Your thermos,” Miguel says, taking your attention from them.
You turn to accept it, remembering the thermos just now since you placed it on the ground at some point during the night to free your hands. You smile as you reach for it with your gloved hands, careful not to drop it or touch Miguel’s hand out of respect for his boundaries regarding physical touch. You notice he has his mitten off on this hand, probably storing it in his coat’s pockets. As you reach for the thermos and slowly wrap your hand around it, you feel it. Despite your precaution to not touch him, you feel Miguel’s pinky wrap around yours softly. He gives your pinky a gentle squeeze before he releases it, letting you fully grasp the thermos and retrieving his hand once he feels you have a good grip of it. He looks down and retrieves his mitten, sliding it on again before he grabs his own thermos from the ground.
You turn to the fireworks, smiling softly to yourself as you think about Miguel’s gesture. You suppose this was his New Year’s “hug.”
“Happy New Year, Y/N,” he says softly.
“Happy New Year, Miguel,” you reply as the two of you continue to watch the fireworks in Miles’s universe for a while longer before you both return to Nueva York.
And just like Miguel said, he stayed up the whole night, with you keeping him company in his living room, and the record player playing soft music. **More café de olla was drank and more of your baked sweets were eaten as the hours went by in his dimension.
You don’t return to your own universe until after you have breakfast with Miguel, due to his invitation. When you return home, you make your way to your bedroom and hang up your coat. You change into fresh clothes and are thinking about taking a short nap as you start putting your gloves and scarf away. It’s then that you realize that you still have Miguel’s scarf. You forgot to give it to him when the two of you returned to his universe. You hold it in your hands, appreciating the softness of it before you tentatively pull it closer to your face, his scent filling your lungs. You put it on your bed and shake your head at yourself in disbelief before you enter your bathroom to freshen up.
At last, you climb into bed and set up an alarm even though it’s still morning. When you pull the covers, you accidentally pull the scarf, too, but instead of putting it away, you pull it closer before you settle down. You fall asleep shortly after, softly inhaling Miguel’s scent from his scarf.
🎆🎆🎆🎆🎆🎆🎆
Translations:
Una taquiza - this is a like a taco buffet; the main dish are tacos and you can choose whatever meat and toppings you want
Carne asada -grilled meat, usually beef
Chorizo - pork sausage
Al pastor - marinated pork meat;
Agua de Jamaica - hibiscus tea
café de olla - coffee made from a pot
Flan - a dessert; custard topped with caramel
tío - uncle
mijo - literally means "my son" but is used as an endearment term friends, too
Mira - Look
Con esas miradas - With those gazes
mi amor - my love
_________
Posting this at around 10pm on my time, just before the new year. Wasn't planning on writing this but here we are! This is officially my last writing piece of the year. Just wanted to say thank you for all the support and love for Nonviolent Communication. I never expected for it to get this much support and love, so THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! It truly means a lot to me and it has been amazing having the opportunity to write especially for a character I've grown really fond of.
I also want to thank all the amazing readers that have created fanart for the story. I just saw someone posted a new one and I'm SO HAPPY AND THANKFUL FOR IT <<<<<<3. I will get to it in a bit as I'm getting ready to hang out with my family but just wow. 🥺 I'm so honored and grateful for every single piece of fanart that has been made. If you haven't already, please go and check it out and show some support to the artists. You can find the fanart here! THANK YOU AGAIN!!
Also, thank you for the lovely asks and comments. I always enjoy reading and responding to them!!
Thank you for everything and I'll be back with part 12 very soon. I wish you all a Happy New Year, filled with all positive things!!! ❤️
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